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There was change, a new pulse, in the life I had known, where mother had been, in the house, we called home Where two maples stretched out, to cradle my dreams, and to shelter my life On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake, with windows cracked open, a wind coming in, .... an intangible night, in the familiar old room, alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things... There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on, and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass, was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, for a place to fit in My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride in the same sacred bed, where my mother had died And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained. I was there at his side, when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too But, I was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings Somehow, it's alright, now, the shadows are new. The sepia light, changes the view I am older, much older than then,... yet, I'm the moth seeking flame... batting my wings, resisting the change, ....again, and again __________________________________ For Craig Cornish's Contest: "Chopped II" 11/3//14
Things that seemed poetic were always sad, though I yearned for sparkle and my dad's guffaw, which never came. Familiar things were always drear -- repeated motions in the same old game. There were only distant glimpses of budding spring, fleeting views of daffodils. The strongest poems dealt me death and dying. Yet I always hoped, never went under to gray despair, always dreaming of a garden of love that we could share. But those forbidden delights faded quickly away; the only reality I understand is the ever-looming and final one. Nothing's changed. The strongest poems deal death and dying.
I had briefly caught sight of the other side of yesterday, blinded by the sun, and weaving through the deep, thistle solitude. I'll carve a path through thorns and flowers, to reach an old memory. Inspired by Andrea's Contest: Glorious Sijo Fields 1/31/15 Visual Number 1
Come and gone like small twister like the cloud of debris he's left. Echoes of Charlie Brown's buddy Pigpen blow through the cobwebs in memory. Left over coffee cups replacing Transformers still dumped in the attic. Reams of knarley skateboards, wheel-less, lay in piles like so much unburnable refuse. The obligatory hugs and peck, over and done the never paid chauffeur collapses… Ah, to have him always near, So, each kiss was not quite so dear. The last fair maid on parade has wandered across the home front, wondering about her predecessor, still tacked with magnets to the fridge, still part of my heart and his… Sons…they say, do not cause such angst. Couldn't prove it by this mother. This maternal blimp of unused helium was not permitted a girl child. One did come and fleetingly leave before formed. We'll never know the sweetness of her. Let the image of his manly self disperse, this son.. into the mist as his Father's has… to be remembered again, only in times of need, his need, for to do anything else, would be to rub salt in an open wound. Poet: D. Guzzi *the day after Christmas
* Written for my daughter, who really does have a precious pair of Little Yellow Socks. Little Yellow Socks by Amy Swanson 12/5/2008 Little yellow socks running down the hall "Slow down with those socks on," I'd yell... too late, the fall! Little yellow socks padding softly late at night climbing up into my lap one more hug, out goes the light. Little yellow socks follow me with squeals of laughter; Oh how she loves to run in them, Begging me to come chase after! Little yellow socks... now not being worn a lot. My little girl is growing up, No longer just a tot. Little yellow socks will be cast aside someday I must guard these precious moments; in my heart, they'll safely stay.
Blood that screams mixes with tears of fears, Over your hypocrisy and useless years. Fresh cuts don't matter - your attentions yet wane. It's just too easy to shut down, I could end this pain. But, escape artists aren't artists at all. When life ends the real journey begins, the journey to be Above imperfection and glorified weakness everyone sees. Life trickles into the drain of the sink, wash it and pretend The veil is burning off,but there is only so much fire can mend Besides, escape artists aren't artists at all.
Take me home Where the sunsets are golden And God's gossamer curtains ripple between the mountain tops Where the seas are clear as the sky above And the waters tickle the shoreline Take me home Where the food is simple And tastes all the better Where the cabs run for cheap And smell a little funny Take me home Where childhood was magical And to this day feels like a dream Where make-believe was the truth And the future did not exist Take me home Where the nights never end And laughter is our language Where I drown in myself And moonlight shines behind my eyes Take me home… I've lost my way
My white-washed bars surrounded me - they held me as I slept; they soothed me when the days were long, and mother's blue-eyes wept. A baby girl, six months or less, awakened from my sleep - stood up legs as sure as hope; as strong as flat is steep. My hands, my saviors, gripped the rail so I could peek outside – the bluest sky I'd ever seen, As tall as it was wide; came into view - between the blue, an airplane gliding by, its smoky streamer like a flag, across my memory's sky... The memory is a simple one - a window, sky, and plane - but in my heart, it's heaven's door and there it shall remain. I've hung it on my memory's wall Between that life and this – It covers every hole I've dug In sorrow's vast abyss. This picture brings the special peace I knew when I was small – Where mother's just beyond the door, and waiting for my call… *Inspired by Danielle's Earliest Memory contest. I have blocked out almost every memory from my childhood, and only a very few gems remain - this is the first. and I will treasure it always...
I am like Cleopatra embraced by serpents many fear always trying something new and dramatic with my hair I am like Eva Patrón growing up with a painful family getting lost in movies thinking of my own hypnotizing when I speak First lady of Argentina meeting you, after death would be a treat a nervous habit, of nibbling on my jewelry the similarities, between us gave me a sense of foolery I am like Wilma Mankiller Chief of the Cherokee Tribe for ten years fighting against Native stereotypes despite such distress enemies did stress promoting to 'be of good mind' you were a leader, of your time an advocator for women that they may grow up and become chief as a child, you wondered the forests, like me not the streets I am like Aung San Suu Kyi wearing three types of flowers in your hair feeling at times like a 'splinter of glass, sharp, glinting power to defend itself against hands that try to crush' winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, for courage, was a must I am like Catherine The Great a love to laugh, coffee, and feeling compelled to always fill abandoned blank sheets of paper you were a Royal Russian Empress,with not one red drop of Russian blood and her people, were blessed to have her I am like the Queen of England longest royal lifetime in history strong built, from a miserable childhood toughened her this is no mystery preferring candle light to electricity handwriting over typewriter and poetry I am like Indira Gandhi dreaming to live as she did riding elephants and having tiger cubs as companions your own Sikh security killed you, the story a sad one secret dreams of being a writer angered, by the imbalance of power between men and women listening to beat poets like Ginsberg as a great Prime Minister of India you were heard and understood I am like Rigoberta Menchú drew the worlds attention to native Indians rights, because of you your goal, to be a drop of water on a rock dripping in the same spot, eventually in the world, you may leave a mark wearing many colors 'because it gives you life' insisting men and women be equals you fought this fight to relax, as I do writing poetry into the night I am like Joan of Arc French Military Heroine burned at the stake at just age nineteen known for keeping your cool even on the battlefield being a courageous and inspirational rare jewel Legendary Lady Leaders I salute you
I never did the ''He loves me not.... He loves me'' game with flowers. I already knew nobody loved me so why should I listen to a stupid flower? I did make wishes on dandelions after the bloom died and it was tiny spikes of fluff waiting to blow away till next year. I hated wasting my time but I couldn't resist. I figured ''If there's even a small hope that this will work.... I've got to try! '' I would find a spot where nobody could see me and I'd whisper my one wish the same wish every time. Thousands of dandelions blown away by my pleading breath. I never told a soul my wishes. Until now. I wished to be happy one day... with a husband who loves me and kids who love me. I wished so hard... I never thought those dandelions were listening.
A burst of white light gamma rays, overbearing a flash of brilliance burns through to my soul everything is like hell the world starts to melt in the blink of an eye just the cold blackness of night I don't care if I am not again what I once was, for at this moment I am greater now than ever before I took the path between teetering, tight roping walking right up to my right divined in my unholy state I thought I told you I am your king still you sit there, hesitating I know you hate me what does that mean? I hate just about everything still I'm chosen I did not wish before now bow down to me refuse me no more for I shall always be your demon until you accept me as your King. I don't even know you though you say we used to be best of friends, you and me the day you ditched me I remember now exactly how it played out back when we were just tiny things even back then I still was King you thought me stupid just a ruse I would laugh inside, you see? not one of you single, mean people ever even knew me in a world, mostly seen to me that is why only I can be your true King and bring forth a new source of light everlasting. As two worlds collide slowly aligned one wrapped in shadows one bathed in white evils swirling in the clouds above I'll always be the king you love to hate or despise as in your blood I thought I told you, I am the one I am the way, the way out shall be shown breathe in my spirit as it carries you away breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough higher than you've ever dreamed of for I am king now, and your in my hell your in my imagination, I'll just never tell you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now if you try and see you were always found the most shared in the light cast upon me the last bright star in heaven. Denounce my name, if you may One year later, still not afraid A black sheep, a darkened spade That's just life, I'm not right I'm in the wrong, follow along Like a piper, I'll pitch a song Mesmerized, the weak wills sing I thought he told you, he's still our king.
Young girls' bright eyes widened Behold the wild wheat field Playground for imaginative innocents Gracefully swaying golden stalks Feathered with grain centers Shooting up like ostrich plumes Enhanced by the aroma Of tantalizing potato pancakes Wafting from Miss Anna's kitchen Such was the ideal venue For hide-and-go-seek The catch of a summer's day Chewing on a chicken leg Hiding low in duck-walk form Produced a lesson in nature Black ants erected colonies Tiny birds sang overhead Warm sun bathed the golden paradise Plans dashed through my mind When I grow up, I want to live here Right here in the amber field Thatched weeds can be my roof Rain will not seep through As I play host to God's creatures I'd want for naught Grain could sustain me As wind-swept shadows dispelled the heat Two decades passed swiftly Before my eager return To revisit my playground of youth Stinging sadness overcame me As I stared at an empty mall That had replaced the weeds What is there about a bulldozer That doesn't like a meadow And buries forever a young girl's dreams But I will always remember Gracefully swaying, bowing stalks With grain centers that shot up like ostrich plumes Casting shadows on little girls' faces And lives *For PD's free verse challenge
My Parent The rules said "one parent not two" Good for me as I only had you No selection; no one to choose Who is this parent; just follow the clues Next rule; write something "profound" Something good or something that makes you frown This one was easy Considering all you ever said was greasy "You stupid _____" This one was rich "Go get the belt" Not satisfied till there was a welt The pain is still felt How about "you swine" Became a preference in time Not "go to bed" Followed by a blow to the head So hard could have become brain dead Your scars are still here Your pain I still wear Your mistakes I still bare Your voice I still hear Your secrets I now declare Your presence I no longer fear Your wrong doings I am aware Your hate is replaced with tender loving care Did you follow the clues Who's this in reference to Someone you want to be related to Perhaps it's someone you already do This is my parent… I wish it were untrue! Lay **For "My Parent" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts. * Honorable Mention
UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN A parent's lament Children with Wings and Talons Pounce on the fleetest of hearts their Memories Soar over the Blood Transfusions Hospital frights of prematurity of EMS sirens HIV trembling tests Asthma Tents Breathless Worry atop cloud kissed Trees Sleepless Nights of bully battles Struggles with Education's foes Mad Escapes from Fathers of Violence The teary wave good bye for fledgling endeavors Day night day night day night…unending and Land on Slight Imperfections and Imagined Slights or the Shortage of Cash for Trips Technoshit New Shoes New Cars or other Dreams You Couldn't Buy.
Perched high upon the escarpment of sandstone rubble, the boy sat, shaded from the rising of the sun in the shadow of Kings. Sharp eyed he preyed upon the tourist below, and to his God Allah. His path was a treacherous one looped and twisting like the snakes of ochre gold shone cresting the brow of Ramesses in the unearthly Valley of the Kings; far from the osprey and marsh grass of the beloved Nile. Below the boy, on a zigzag path between the mouth-like openings to the netherworld, tourists swarm, ants on a mound of honey stone suckers of sweetness, oblivious, as they had done for centuries. He sat as his father before him hunkered down knees to chest the vulture heraldic creature of Upper Egypt death eater, little had changed except now the robbers wore blue jeans and not the hajab. He had earned his small bit of the twentieth century..hawking
A very tender child, aware, knowing Lives in your consciousness On your lips, in your heart, Part of you in every way Waiting, waiting patiently To be free, the right combinations Sequence that every locked door knows ciphering a message as complex completing the DNA sequence and replicate! Do you not know! Replicate, ciphering to transform, to live becoming alive again and again old as the ageless mystery of the bells ringing and singing the song of life The waiting heart stitches the words in some special sacramental order known only to those who wish to know And when the last bell is struck They are no longer words but alive and in becoming alive they simply spread their wings and fly away
Sometimes the memories won't fade All the places we have seen All the prices we have paid The memories of the happy as well as the sad The people we've lost The friends that we had Some memories just seem like a ghost I always lost everyone that I loved the most The wind would just carry them away Along with my tears And my ability to pray I wonder how far is heaven from here? How many more heartaches How many more tears I wonder how far it is away Because I have so many things that I wish to say To all the people that I loved and I lost I'm not even tripping My heart paid the cost The reaper rode the river in a bikers disguise I'll never forget the fear in my mother's eyes As he drug her under and then let her go Through my four year old veins hate started to grow My eyes were blind my ears were deaf After that I forgot There was anything left Karma is like poker for it is bound to luck When I was just a boy God through me under the truck Of all the things in life we feel We are all bound to God's will Passion is a doorway between love and hate God is the dealer in the game of fate Our place is not to question why For if we do our faith will die The deeper we hate the deeper we love I was gifted wisdom by the Lord above Every gift comes at a price A world of experience behind my advice Every smile holds a lifetime of pain Nothing that happens should happen in vein It is our choice that which we do Know in your heart these words are true The harder we fall the further we climb No ones life is totally sublime Illusion after illusion will be offered to you But only the living word is true The living word that beats in your heart Will keep you safe as the world falls apart Through the pain of a boy watching his mother die It's never to late to kiss the sky A man of faith who could never give up Please come break my bread and share in my cup By the time our journey is through I'll share all I am with you Hopefully somewhere in my words you'll see ---Untwisted is truly the way to be---
I walk a mile to see the self in me that I believe to be, I knew the road I choose to lay my head to sleep is called my home, times in need I could barely see that in myself I will set free, the act that held me down, something about me I could not see, I lived a life when I decide that day I said that I don't care, so young, so bright, I dim my light, traumatized for me to share, love me please regardless of what you heard and what you have seen, friends say that I'm only human, yes you're right, a human but who am I being? My life will move in the direction I choose, this I know I have always been taught that I choose to be a winner or lose, its entirely up to me its all in my thoughts. Ken Fepulea'i
I am the center of raw and wild feelings. Born from an ancient spirit of infant and child. Falling back in a womb of darkness, myself I discover. Hiding in an egg, I hear a whisper. My shell is touched by a promise in the wind's soughing. Infinite breath of wind caresses, I, who am little. I am conscious of little. A time before definition or feelings. Warm, wild wind soughs. Motion stirs the blueprint of a child. God in every breath, every whisper. Take form and discover. A bud must open in order to discover. Hesitation and fear cry out from a bud so little. Inside a chameleon wears it's feelings. Fright filters through the pores of a child. Leaf and skin shiver in a dark wind's soughing. The angelic songs of a river soughs. Life's song for us to discover. Along the riverbank runs the child. Of the future she knows little. Reflecting in water a spectrum of feelings. Their sound is a scream, a laugh, a cry and a whisper. As I grow the acceptable sound is a whisper. My tears often mix with a shower's soughing. Bodies aren't meant to cover feelings. They should be naked dancers that discover. Their steps are big and little. Dance with the flow trusting child. As I grow older, in my soul lives the child. My heart is the room where she shouts and whispers. It's a never-land where she will always be little. Hope sings in a tear-river's soughing With care and love we'll learn to discover. We are courageous explorers of feelings. The child, her voice a prayerful wind's soughing. A soft reminding whisper not to fear discovery. Oh little love I am with you always, experiencing together our feelings.
Bleeding around me are empty faces Sad, drooping spaces, crumpled places Melancholy for the light of new places Stuck in time, frozen in time The pangs of lonesome fill their sagging hearts Frowning forever, frowning forever Let me stare blankly at the stained wall Nothing at all…nothing at all The mind is a scary place The mind is a distraction From the reality ever binding Curbing every reaction The mind is overwhelming The mind is oh so sad When we turn to larvae and graves It's an never-ending... Entwinement Found myself looking through the tiny hole in the wall Watching you fall, watching you fall Scared for the neck that would break us all You shuddered my blood…shuddered my blood I met the eyes of the souls of your feet Twitching and swinging…unfeeling…unfeeling Please allow me this sole ease: Just be with me... lie with me The mind is a scary place The mind is a distraction From the reality ever binding Curbing every reaction The mind is overwhelming The mind is oh so sad When we turn to larvae and graves It's an everlasting... Entwinement -inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules- -also inspired by the stop motion film: The Man in the Lower-Left hand Corner of the Photograph-
Little Long-Legs by Amy Swanson Running to me with big hugs and even bigger brown eyes smile full of mischief arms thrown around my neck --- almost choking me!--- *smile* "I love you Mommy!" my little "Long-Legs" how fast you have grown. Almost as tall as your short mama *but then that wouldn't take much* --wink!-- I smile remembering a time when my little Long-Legs ... my long-legged girl... had little bitty short legs just learning how to toddle around the house (falling over!) crawling faster than I could walk running to keep up with her...!... purple baby food plums smeared across a happy smiling mouth full of giggles and smiles with no idea how cruel this world can be; pure innocence. Pure contentment. Oh how time flies. She's nine next week birthday princess toddler toys long gone; she wants a bike so she can ride like the wind -- already the taste of freedom in her mouth already the feel of freedom in her spirit another step... away from me. But she knows I will always *and, somehow, forever* watch over my little girl even when she is no longer little. She smiles at me teeth slightly crooked hair brushed all by herself and asks "Do you like my style?" already planning her fashion agenda like every "big girl" does. My almost-nine year old girl born on lucky clover day March 17th, 2000 the day she changed my life *my world* so grown up, so soon... and I know more is on the way. What I don't know is how this mother's heart will fare when one day she leaves. You make my life complete sunshine girl full of tickles and giggles I love you so, my little Long-Legs.
YOU'RE THE WEAK ONE You're the weak one, you're a bully. The weak one is definitely not me. The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can't seem to see. So, I'm going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways. Your weakness began on your first bullying day. Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through. I actually feel a little sorry for you. Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate. Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate. Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life? Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect, understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high. Al Johnson
I never saw him but he said he could … dive sixty feet into three feet of drink ... i saw him drown drafts and distillers from glasses that clink … I never saw him but he said he could … ride bikes backwards on bars with his butt … i saw him abuse and call her a slut … I never saw him but he said he could … whip any ten men only for fun … i saw him whip loved ones and brag he had won … I never saw him but he said he could … ascend, sail in air ships … i saw him soar from s t a g g e r i n g summits to heaps on the floor … he never said he could but i saw him … InciteinvisibleInvaders CURSEshadow'sSilence BR EAK bones HURT hearts TURN holidays toHELLDAYS PUSH peaceTo Pandemonium I SAW HIM!
I. In the orange land, the sidewalks race wild with them, postured like statues of royal gardens the marble lions amongst hibiscus limbs. II. I like the smell of them, earth warmed dirt and fallen honeysuckle baked beneath the Florida sun. III. I poke with one tanned fingertip where the flesh cocoons around their soft belly, it is like the open sesame for lizards. IV. The open mouth of a lizard has no bias it dangles on ear lobes like Coco Chanel classic in style. V. When separated the tail becomes an asp wrestling with the truth of it's loss.
Wearing Daddy's boots & cowboy hat & not much in between Why, Momma, ain't she just about the prettiest baby you've ever seen? I'm sure wishing she was talking, reading her mind is quite a trick And she's sure getting awful heavy, I hope she's walking quick Whoa there, sassy, Momma look at her running wild Why I am not sure there ever was a more rambunctious child Life sure was a picnic when we could just bundle her up & go Now I get tuckered just watching her, she's a pint size dynamo Waist length braids, a gap tooth grin & freckled face That's our girl, Momma, her calf just took first place How old is she now, six? No, she can't possibly be eight Seems she is growing up faster than I'd anticipate Well I'll be, look at her standing on the stairs in a fancy gown, heels & make up putting on womanly airs this young girl looking back at me, yesterday she was only seven Now there's a young buck staring at her like he's just seen heaven Wearing a cap & gown, her diploma held high Look, Momma, there's our girl, getting ready to give her wings a try Wasn't it just yesterday she was afraid of the monsters under the bed? Now she's off to college, her own path to tread Wearing Grandma's pearls & a gown of antique white Now, Momma, don't start fussing, everything will be all right Wasn't it just yesterday, I was wishing she was talking? Now the music is playing & down the aisle we're walking Wearing Grandpa's boots & cowboy hat & nothing in between Why Grandma ain't that the prettiest grandbaby you've ever seen? Now listen, Sassy, don't go wishing for her to grow up so fast Treasure each & every moment, create a memory to last Be mindful of what you wish for when your babes are small For in just the blink of an eye, they won't be small at all You dream of turning back the clock & know you never will For time flies, just as surely as you wish it would stand still
I wiggle my toes in the sands of time, sifting through the grains and the years gone by. Lamenting those years I was in my prime. How fast, they seem now, to have flown by. Sifting through the grains and the years gone by, I recall the adventures in my life. How fast they seem now, to have flown by, through childhood, teen years, to become a wife. I recall the adventures in my life. Of scars and bruised ego's, that brought me here, through childhood, teen years, to become a wife. It seems I really had nothing to fear. Of scars and bruised ego's that brought me here, I realize now how they did mold me. It seems I really had nothing to fear, except for a future, I can not see. I realize now, how they did mold me. I relive my life, as the scenes unfold, except for a future I can not see, yet looking forward, to what my future holds. Reliving my life, as the scenes unfold, lamenting those years I was in my prime. Yet, looking forward to what my future holds, I wiggle my toes in the sands of time. Entry for "The Pantoum" contest Hosted by: Jared Pickett Placement: Honorable Mention
I once knew your point of view. Innocent and fresh. Sweet as the mourning dew. Time teaches lessons sometimes harder than they should be. Sad as the old lonley man. Who watches the young lovers so very foolish and free. Like the seasons of spring and summer. Along with foolish lies. I wish you could stay eternal sweet young eyes. Never to feel the pain or know the cold. To experience the bitterness of time. Or the emptyness of growing old. But with days slowly passing even the greatest passion dies. I wish you never to know the truth. And remain forever my sweet young eyes.
So, what do you have to tell me, Oh little girl, my little girl? Oh what do you have to tell me that brings wholeness to our world? ~~~ I was not born all filled with fear, I was not born for hate I did not arrive upon this world too early or too late ~~~ Oh, little girl, you need not cry, Your sadness is from years gone by Take heart, my sweet and gentle one at last our freedom has begun For you're still here, you did not die I am you and you are I
We treat it like a marble in our pocket for a while we win it we lose it but no matter where it goes it always holds the warmth of our hands
1. Mom kept the perch we caught in a bucket. And when we took them home She would clean and place them In our twenty gallon tank Where they bobbed in stunned silence Eyes watching for any white movement. Nobody cared when they committed fishicide on their domesticated tank-mates. Even the little beta fish Who had survived our six day pilgrimage from Florida, to find Mecca was a cool whip container. 2. Whenever we had guests for dinner, Mom swooned they were the smartest fish she had ever seen. She bestowed upon them names - Jed and Lucy tapping at the glass with one extended finger, feeding them fish flakes, like porpoises fed from the teeth of a trainer in Ocean World "You can't keep perch in a fish tank" the guests would say, but they lived for two years bobbing and staring in the vacant tank space. 3. One crisp winter morning Jed finished his breakfast of gold fish flakes, took one last gulp of slimy tank water then hurled himself off of glass walls. It went over and over, so hard I almost thought the glass would crack. 4. Lucy sat quietly and watched him. She too died a few days later like aged soulmates who often cease to be after their amor dies. When someone left the lid open, she plunged her blue green skin shimmered as she laid making fish O's in the dry air.. I often wonder if the air that morning smelled like an ice floe to a better place somewhere Jed waited with our beta and our angel fish a place of worms, kelp and dragonflies. 4. Mom emptied the tank of the murky filtered water. Rinsed the ultra neon yellow fish gravel, and placed the fake plants on a sponge. Separating air filter, from pump from clear plastic tubing and put to rest in a brown cardboard box.. She did it without a word.
I look into his soft blue eyes And see the face of two before him The sweet innocence and wonder Of all that the world possesses For in him lies the possible Those things that escaped before As our time is too short To experience all the beauty before us His smile and giggle so enchants Free of the worldly weights to come Unencumbered by life's many roads Choosing all rather than some Such possibilities await this one As with the two before him Which ones will he choose What path shall he take But not today, for time seems endless For now, to explore all he sees When joy is the only decision And beauty in everything abounds
She sees herself suddenly as a small girl bare feet on the cold black and white tile little toes curled sees the white porcelain tub and how pretty the light blue water was so deep it almost came to her chin as she climbed in For hours she'd play with her dime store sailboat loving it though it would hardly float always taking on water listing, never level her wet skinny back hunched over shoulder blades like primordial wings every few minutes she'd have to shake the thing Trying desperately not to break the spell of pretend and when it was time to let the water out she'd always stay to watch the water drain weighing the emotional pain both fascinated and horrified, as the suction intensified, by the force of the water the unstoppable slaughter waiting for the inevitable rotation to begin the dizzying spin Slowly at first growing faster and faster a miniature cyclonic water disaster The dime store boat of course on its side circling faster in the relentless tide Then the drain would give a horrible belch much satisfied with itself. As she grew the tub got smaller with shallower water less and less room for pretend to bloom. Years later, dime store sailboat long forgotten, life having been mostly rotten working with the most cynical of cynics ER nurses bitter that it's more like a clinic runny noses and coughs that folks thought were urgent working hard to save those who were truly emergent Hearing from them the phrase: "circling the drain" memories suddenly flooding the brain almost able to feel herself as that young girl watching the sailboat beginning to swirl Feeling the blood drain, face going pale she sees vividly the boat with its bright red sail yellow hull and blue plastic deck fine hairs rising on the back of her neck She realizes now the fatigue of age is from fighting the pull with defiant rage The closer you get, the faster you spin and soon the dark whirlpool draws you in With a knowledge that seems to be purely primal she now understands the downward spiral And she knows that she will not put up a fight she'd rather go silently in the dark of the night And the dime store boat comes to rest on its side so it's all come full circle at the end of the ride. SADNESS ©Danielle White
Thoughts melt and distil under a green/blue flame, Swirling down, separated out and mixed. If you've seen it, it's broken; If you've heard it, it's shredded; If you've read it, it's rewritten. It's really quite unlikely to be fixed. You're cutting up holiday snaps and pasting them onto card. And you're scrambling madly to hide the mess on the floor As your mum yells for cleanliness From behind your bedroom door. 3001 puzzle pieces and you're jamming them together, No wonder your imagination is at the end of its tether. You've got two pieces that are sun-kissed clouds "What comes… what comes next?" You've got two roots in the soil "What comes… what comes next?" Your mother is sitting in the hall With a scarf tied round her neck, Her back pressed up against the wall As she deals the jigsaw deck. 3001 pieces in her hands, Mixed with childhood drawings And grains of sand. She lays out seven in a line, Which you place between the two and two. "Oh, but that and that won't rhyme!" "Don't you think that this one will just do?" And your father's disapproving in the kitchen, "You don't need no occult nonsense, Or a system to order out your brain" He just stands there "focussed" Over a pot on a blue/green flame, Subconsciously mumbling while stooped, "Look here Son, look, I'm making poa-tery soup." But you would never tell him that, Just like you'll never be finished, ever. No-one ever is Even if they know they're doing it or not. My grandfather died last week, The sourest stuck-in-a-rut-of-a-man That you're ever going to meet. The diagnosing doctors were in for a treat. They said that there was something wrong there, Something wrong with his brain, That there was something strange there Fundamentally, main. They said that he died - after scans - in a cubicle stall, When his brain haemorrhaged and cracked open, And jigsaw pieces piled up against the wall.
Dont despair that I dont miss you want to hold you wait to kiss you I cant see you , I can feel you with a heart line I can reel you Right back in just like the River HOMOSASSA taker, giver In some light you flow beside me seek to steer me, move me, guide me To a place I cant remember Like a glowing, dying ember Of a time I cant recall But I know you have it all Saved on waves of long ago Washed up somewhere I cant know Where each tide must rise and fall Some Lagoon where nightbirds call Everyone sits 'round the glow Waiting for someone to know How to read the map to find me Even I am left behind me.
To see the world through your eyes… An aching heart is cured simply by a kiss… With paper and crayon a new Picasso is hung… Coffee cans and cooking pots are an orchestra… A twig is a swashbuckler's sword saving the day… Even alone you create new friends to fill a void… You don't understand when I can't see them too… That sweet beauty you imagine has no boundaries… I pray you hold onto it for just a moment more… When you next open your eyes all will be different… Cans will be junk twigs will become kindling and… That faithful friend you created will have faded away… I wish with all my heart you could stay young forever…
Sense of humour, elevating our spirits Musing over the simple things in life, rejoicing at what we find Imagination stimulated, childlike, seeing the wonders in life Light heartedness, laughing at one's self! Everything as it is meant to be, smiling, enjoying, the gift of life
In the childhood home her mother spins her child Round and round we go happiness seems to overflow And the childhood goes by; faster, faster A growing child with so much energy running and having fun Careless and free he runs across the yard He is growing up; faster, faster Only in middle school and already a rebel Sticking up for a friend and getting in a fight He has courage but still he runs; faster, faster High school has come at last The odd man out he cries for attention Into depression he spirals; faster, faster At the high school prom he meets a girl The hearts beet together and the music beats in their ears They are falling madly in love; faster, faster Barely a year and a kid on the way To work and back the same routine, every hour, every day A wedding is coming closer; faster, faster So far a happy life, and a good career They buy a home and outside he spins his child Another childhood is going by; faster, faster His life was long another one has started from it But now the ambulance move; faster, faster And his heartbeat fails; slower, slower
Quite often it seems we tell kids, it's best to be first They sign up for fun; parents, it seems, for the fame Whether it's academics or sports, why not just let kids thrive? Create environments for learning and fun needed to thrive Nurture with affection and love; be their springboard first Build the foundation they will need to handle future fame A solid foundation will ensure an easy adjustment to fame In any circumstance, self- assurance makes anyone thrive Teach them, the game of life is not won by coming in first Good character first, may lead to fame in which anyone can thrive ~*~
Sometimes I admire the littlest things A simple rock. A blade of grass. They need no future goals, no tax exemptions They don't need to go anywhere or be anything They just are. Sometimes, especially when I'm reading life insurance policies, I envy the rocks and the grass And try to be like them for a moment. I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind- And it whispers in my ear: Just be. And for that moment I don't need to go anywhere or be anything. And at the snap of my fingers, All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind. Jacob Reinhardt 10/07/13
They took away my innocence— A child, but merely two years old. My soul left with ambivalence; I hate myself as I grow old. A child, but merely two years old— Abandoned, glossed over, abused. I hate myself as I grow old; Completely left confused and used. Abandoned, glossed over, abused— Why would a person hurt a child? Completely left confused and used— Naïf, so trusting, meek, and mild. Why would a person hurt a child? My soul left with ambivalence— Naïf, so trusting, meek, and mild. They took away my innocence.
Drink the drink, and take the pills, lay on the medication. But your soul's forever lost to them without persistent dedication. There's things we've learned, and things we will, to decide us right from wrong. But your ears are only open, now, to a techno-logic song. Social norms have bound you tight, then cut you awf'ly deep. And still your soul beneath the surface begs of you, relief. You waded in their welcome waters, thought it nice and cool But now I'm sure you've figured out you're lost in sorrows pool So take it from who knows you best Someone who has passed this test: Before you drift out in the sea And the shore's no longer in your view, I promise that I'll bring you back And if I can't, I'll follow you. Before your legs and arms grow weak And you've passed your final tier, I promise that I'll hold your hand; I promise you I'll still be here. Before your lungs are filled with water And our souls are parted once again, I promise you that you're forgiven; I promise you I'm still your friend. Before you close your sunken eyes Inviting night to kill the day Know your bright was never slight And soon you'll see your way.
M y mother died when I was fifteen months old O h how my heart hurt when I called her so bold T o heaven her soul did soar_ leaving her children H ere on this earth, with lives now so totally barren E each day I wonder why so young she had to go R easons I will never know in this life though S atan did his work in destroying family D evil stirred the father to drink, compulsorily E aten away was his heart from the loss; Granny A ttended five children's needs, extra for baby T o family members word was spread_ youngest given H ome by adoptive family; but this for child heaven
Pigeons flutter in the park eating refuse from the grass. Noon comes; the hours pass. Leaves fall; the sky grows dark. Silence reigns throughout the park. A crumpled headline, a forgotten toy, lifeless, do not hear a far-off bark. In the park, not a single little boy. Midnight comes; the hours go -- soon, the sky begins to glow... morning breaks, and with it, sound. In the park begins the morning round. White skeletons of benches -- slats -- in all the wintry parks of Age fill up in morning. Deserted flats, each with the aspect of a cage, become an unused, waiting gauge that measures dull and wasted years -- floods of loneliness -- rivers of fears... The weak and battered, pallid crowd which, daily, parks ingest speak in muted tones; but loud is the message all suggest. The clangor of the beaten Belles, trampled in the slime of years, entreats the mind to plug its ears; yet, if it will, it hears... memories, perhaps, keep active still the shriveled and the loosened flaps that are the mouths of all the Bills -- reduced to gray and ugly gaps... Down the graveled pathways come children bent on carefree play. Belles, though silent, are not dumb, nor will the Bills forego their say. But warnings fall on ears too deaf; around are eyes too blind to see. And so the tots, too young for Death, play on and on till time for tea. Day after day after day children come and children play. Pigeons flutter in the park; Leaves fall; the sky grows dark. Once more, deep silence claims the park. Midnight hours come and go. The sky again assumes a glow. Wind stirs dead leaves to rustle. Starts again the aimless bustle of the battered, weak, and infirm-eyed: those whom living failed -- who died but still must play their signal role of unloved, friendless, unhailed Old; who gather daily in the park to envy tots their vital spark -- the hope, the promise in their eyes -- before it fades, before it dies. But tots at play -- the young, the bold -- must laugh and sing -- cannot be told that youth's not long and Time is cold. Time devours -- a ravenous beast -- and men are the courses at his feast. Some he swallows in their prime, On some he waits too long a time: these rancid morsels, Time's midnight snack, explore their memories. They hie them back to that old moment, deepest black, when they first dared to know -- and first said -- that Time's the master all men dread. (Please read The Park -- Part Two, which is a continuation of this poem...due to space limitations)
The Great Clock Like the sunrise in the morn, A babe, a life is born. For a child, the Lord's own pride The door of life has opened wide Beyond the haze, without a sound The mighty Clock of Life is wound Ticking on, into the sun Until one's time on earth is done. The child will have to learn to live When to take and when to give He learns to fear, to hate, resent, But love will help him be content. Of work and play, a footing's laid, Of pains and joys a man is made. A man who soon will stand alone, To show the world how he has grown. But soon the Great Clock quickens pace, And he looks upon a weary face, Shining once, but shadowed now, With sagging cheeks and wrinkled brow. And looking 'round him he will see All has changed, not only he. Mother, brother, sister, wife, Beaten by the storms of life. Beneath the hilltop sod is laid Other loved ones, passed away. Of tender feelings once held dear All will someday disappear. For Time, like the healing sea Wishes all painful memories free. For it is better to think of things to come. Rather than of things which have come and gone. For the past is dead, all life's ahead, And the great Clock, ticks on! Thomas J. Rauens (Written in 1968)
The fear of life. For nine months in warm sweet world I float there peacefully Then cast into that birth canal It kind of frightens me I feel I'm suffocating And I don't know what it is Too soon I enter crazy world Far from the gardens bliss. As light comes shining everywhere The panic settles in This world is filled with action And so much awful din I feel like I'm in trouble Yet there's naught that I can do It seems this place is crazy That I've been cast into. Then as I grow from babyhood And listen to the lies That all these madmen tell me Cause they're not very wise It seems that something's wrong with me My life it feels off key So the only question on my mind Is 'What is wrong with me???'
Mom and dad tried to raise us kids right, tucked us into bed early each night, taught us we should always say a prayer, because the devil lurked everywhere... That the Good Lord would keep us safe, no matter what problems we faced, that He'd watch over us from above, that a forgiving heart, He'd always love, But I didn't care, try or see why, I'd been told the right ways to live by, and the devil kept on closing in, that's when all my problems begin, I ran the streets real late at night, learned real quick how to fight, Mom and dad got so uptight, me coming home at morning light, I really started messing up at school, thought that I was just too cool, and didn't need to live by any Golden Rule, My oh my, was I a fool, And that's when more problems begin, as the devil lurked around every bend, but I didn't care or reason why... as I stared the devil in his eye, I started smoking pot and cigarettes, through all the coughing, choking regrets, shooting dice and making bets, stealing things to pay my debts, Then I started drinking whiskey and beer, skipping school, I had no fear, the devil had me in high gear, but then I recalled, God was always near, Yes, the Good Lord opened both of my eyes, and rescued me from a certain demise, through all of my past sin and pain, He's with me watching over me again, Mom and dad tried to raise us kids right, tucked us into bed early each night, as I keep their reminders safe in prayer, I also pray for everyone, everywhere.
Have you ever thought back and remembered a time, when poor judgment nearly cost you… your prime. There were fifty-22 cal bullets in the ammo box I found, mishandling Remington's bullets… could put you in the ground. Putting the box in my pocket, thinking what should I do? Squeeze off one in the barnyard vise… or maybe do two. BANG! BANG! Loud reports and pungent gunpowder did abound. How addictive that fragrance… 48 more lay waiting on the ground. The next five/six bullets went into holes on the lip of the vise, swinging that heavy sledgehammer… really felt nice. Each bullet exploded leaving its' brass case in the steel. The heavy sledgehammer gave lead… no mortal body to feel. BANG! BANG! BANG! The shells reported in rapid succession. Used everyway possible firing all the bullets… in my possession. 50 times in a row I cheated death and great bodily harm. God knows he was more than patient… that day on the farm. * A true story. © 2010 John M. Trusty
So many thoughts come to mind If only I could really go back in time Change or undo my life's violent and sexual crimes Tell those around me to open their eyes Pay Attention to the signs If only one wish could really rewind Those pedophilic hands of my life-time… Then I stopped and started to think Who would I be if this didn't happen to me? What of the woman I'd come to be The wisdom I'd come to see And my children who's lives are abuse free As a result of my past… my history… Now, with eyes wide and mind free Heart pounding, air, LOVE and life in me Blessed with children to change my legacy, Equipped with words and strength to share my story… my poetry I'd wish only to open the eyes of the blind The mouths of the abused and the hearts of our society… I'd make them see… I'd make them see So no other child has to end up like me… Lay ** For the "If I Had One Wish Contest"
I'm a child again I'm a child again and it's such fun To kick a ball, and laugh, and run And walk down to the local park And being bad, oh, what a lark I love to watch those colored birds This always kind of gets me stirred Their lovely hues, my eyes they daze These lovely birds do me amaze. But there is one thing that I do hate At bath times, fuss I do create And mum and dad, they get real mad I suppose I do play up a tad. And also I do hate that school With all its daft, and silly rules But when I write my little stories That's when I get my share of glory. But really, If I had the choice I'd really like to raise my voice And tell them 'I want out of this!! Being a child gives me no bliss!' 27 August 2013 @ 1722hrs. Peter Duggan. You're a kid again contest...Age ten
Who am I? Question indeed! W-eaned from tender age,in noble family of ten. H-urt by the demise of the tube that brought me into this theater of struggles and pains. O-rdered about by the whimps of this world,facing the hurdles of life daily from cradle,never giving up hope. A-fine young man of 28 I am,who has the experience and wisdom of the aged. M-astering the arts of life-learning from lessons of life's victims and didactic poems 'cos man of fame I intend to be for I bear the name Bob. I-lost my poetic gift at a stage but recovered it in poetrysoup for invisible entities say a lesser being I shall be,but another encourages me to move on,for great is one who comes out of the shackles of life undeterred for this is who I am. Name: Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu. Date:24-10-2013.
Dimly lit, I sit in a Mexican kitchen near the Tropic of Cancer. A TV is tuned to inane noises; dogs at my feet, oranges in a bowl on a table: a specific place and time. And I am dreaming -- dreaming of Louisiana in twilight hours -- dreaming of short winter days and summer's green, bright mornings. Country time, mostly empty, was quiet, seldom interrupted by human utterance; but my busy brain was full of fantasy and subterfuge. The world was new, was big, was yet to be explored; possibilities seemed endless. Oak and cypress, willows, pines -- and magnolias -- were all around, and cane fields stretched for miles. School was a bus ride -- there and back -- and hours of new discoveries. The bayous that had always been there were there still. Change was slow in coming and childhood lasted long. I dream now of Louisiana: poignant vignettes... dreamy glimpses... and all those slowly fading recalled moments of the past...
15 years old. It was a brain tumor, they'd said. Holding past the current; undertow of reality slapping my fragility cold – (steel bars won't hold water – movement always finds its way) O', how the lies twist! Twist like the dusty branches on an old, gray apple, holding appraising rooks from another's waking nightmare. Suicide, they tell me now. A menagerie of years too late. Oh…and by the way, he's not your real father; your real father was dead to you the moment he found out. This guy's just The Black-Maker – (mother stealer; innocence taker) a mass of dark waiting to fall; waiting to burrow beneath light skin (so dark, even the sun lost hope) exponentially surrendering - stuck on repeat. The temper of blood lost, melting my thin ice – can you sense the coiled, un-leashed? Like a waking May snake tasting the indifferent air for the first time since snow; out of its burrow, and striking its own skin ripe; bleeding my vinegar still, sweet; distilling a wicked brew (a science experiment gone bad) until the steel breaks and every molecule of unoccupied space is reduced to motes; unseen in the shadow of its dying host. A ticking time-bomb: Sex, drugs, drinking – all manner of loose cutting; memory re-making, recapturing of her long dead ghost, exhumed from its protective bed of lies – and how that double edge twists to this day. Only now, it twists in wind through my reclaimed space. The sign across my chest reading, OCCUPIED, instead of SPACE FOR RENT. 37 years old. It was suicide. This I know – lies all told. But, it was also her greatest gift – her young life tolled; my life, paid in full through the tears of time. (dried up like an ancient river still baring the scars of once was…) From one parent to their child, the gift of life remains the greatest gift of all. Nothing was ever taken from me. No…only given - un-leashed; un-bound; un-coiled. My own struggle baring weight - her wrongs come to my light - I am the Light-Maker now, and as straight and long as the journey from one star to the next; and the next, and on. I have stopped fighting my past and embraced it. Thanks to all, (life/her/them/Him) I am learned and open as renewed hope from the heart of God. *For Michael's Un-Twisted contest. This is part of how I un-tiwsted what came to me twisted; how I un-did my knots, and gave thanks for those knots instead of trying to fight them.
~ Letter to Mother ~ If I die before I wake To my mother I would write I never understood why you were so cruel ~ or why you had an iron fist rule Why you beat me till black and blue ~ for something as simple as not tying my shoe Why you were always enraged ~ why interest in my life you never engaged Why did I get the worst of the abuse ~ when I was the best behaved and did as you told me to Why did you fight to win custody back ~ when maternal instincts you knew you lacked Your torment instilled in me ~ fear, depression, insecurities, and anxiety This is the reason my judgment was flawed ~ mother you should be appalled Even though it was horrific living through this ~ I love you and for your pain to be healed I always wished Even though my body will be gone ~ Even though you may morn My heart is no longer scorn ~ I thank you for being born My life resulted in the lives of more ~ Lives that I love and adore This is the greatest gift you have given me ~ I don't want or ask for more... I'm FREE Lay
When I was five, I should have told my mom that one of my friends called her ugly. Maybe I would have stopped being overly sensitive at school if guys didn't look at me or like me. I never realized how much her words hurt me when she first said them. Remembering how I used to treat her when we played at school and made sure others knew why truly makes it quite clear. As we got older, I don't think she even remembered saying it. I included my closest friends in a fight she was oblivious of. Telling her it hurt would have been the best.
Walayee Who? She's just thirty two Wasn't trained to write in school In her life she wears many shoes Challenges just about any rule Has 2 daughters and they are cool Divorced once; no longer a fool Inspiration for writing is to reveal the cruel Her mission is to defend She tells her story for your children To open eyes to this enormous sin To protect them from predatory men The one's who rape and abuse them This is real no one can pretend When your child speaks, listen They may be afraid to mention So Please Please Pay Attention Lay
On his shoulders he carried me, when I tarried when young. He'd huddle me close, and tell me the stories Of how he grew up. The things that he loved to do most. Correct me when wrong. And punish when bad he'd Protect me from harm, And when ill - He'd wrap me in blankets, And nurse by my side, Till one day I grew up And rebelled. In your footsteps You wanted Me to have followed, And done everything by your will. But I'm my own person, So listen to my side, Are you in with me this time Or still…? Do you not answer? Hear my pain call? As I struggle to find my own way. Is it time I departed? Is it time that I learnt? To have my own will What d'you say? Well I'm sorry You're silent. You're so disappointed. But I know that you feel I am wrong. I can't take this no longer I'm so full of anger. To my misery Is there no end? Well I'm out!... Do you hear me?... Dont misunderstand me. I'm grateful for what you have done. But for now I don't know me. I don't know the answers. I'll pack up my things and be gone! But then you say to me Just listen – child listen, One day you will settle You'll see. You'll be married. With children. Putting food on the table - Working hard to bring in the dough Then you'll think of these words Just follow my footsteps That way you will Come to no harm. And the voice in your head Will silently say - I told you, Was right all along. I'm your father I taught you to follow my footsteps; To know what is right and Whats wrong!
"I shall be telling this with a sigh" Robert Frost My thoughts they roil like waters dark in the abyss of blackest night with memories of mother's book marks of Longfellow read by lamp light. She called in the room around me the patter of other small feet, her gentle voice fetched angels Oh, rhymes how they astounded me like lullabies soft and so sweet. All fearsome shadows, she'd dispel Maxine, my queen read Tennyson and the Charge of the Light Brigade a little girl dreamt of caissons roll and thunderous cannonades. To be so brave the small child mused mother's small, precious, heroine what would it take to stand so strong without father, and not confused What words where the linchpin to right mother's tell tale wrong. Such sad inspiration*.. mother but a champion you were born. You're adored before all others yet, tears bring memories forlorn. So, dreams stream on of Mother Goose three kittens and their mittens. My visions of your fleeting smile return almost every night, and your spirit comforts, lightens sights, if only for a little while.
come, my child, let me hold you tight, so I can keep you warm tonight. I pray God ends our homeless plight. Dr. Ram's triplet contest
Man, I remember the thrumming of that last bell of the school year..... Like a prisoner being furloughed into the warm sun, buzzing of grasshoppers. Field stickers burrowing into your ankles, joyfully, while you take the wrong way/long way back. The sound of whispering gold as your armplane wings dislodge future assaulters of ankles. I always liked sighs in the summer.....those sweet drones were the tones of freedom. In the distance you hear Shirley scream as Brad tells EVERYBODY she likes Ralph... You knew you should be gettin' home, but, confound it, this one brief moment was yours. Eternal. There was a sound, like a shell to the ear, of all you had learned, escaping as if under pressure. To thwart it was to stop a tsunami with an umbrella.....ineffectual....unnoticed. But, also vacant, was common sense; probably why I went Jake's way that day.... Oh, he was there, lurking...lying in wait for my almost clock-work arrival. Many a day I had screamed a million insults at him as he chased me like Satan, Hoping "today" wasn't the day he caught up with me. His exhalations never sounded labored, as if he was letting me get ahead..... But not today!!!!!.....I JUMP......He LUNGES......and his teeth gain purchase on my seat!!!! However, I escape....My bottom, that much cooler than it was before and will probably be later! ........................ ......... ..... ... Home.......... you see mom in the kitchen, drinking sun tea and waiting for you to arrive.... "So, How was school?"..."Uh, fine, I guess." "What did you learn today?"......."Uh, to never underestimate the value of Gym Class!!"......"Well," she says, "if you took home economics, you'd be able to fix up your pants before Dad gets home and sees your underwear!!"...... Parents NEVER respect an Adventurer's near-fatal exploits!!!
It had only been a few days Still unfamiliar with my grief, (it was my first time, you see...) I was such a novice to the proper routine Of condolences, phone calls, and flowers Pity in the air, ...a pat on my hair, and those hesitant smiles... Neighbors....even those we hardly knew, Reaching out with assorted casseroles Devils food cake, and strange jello salads....food of all kinds ...To me, this ritual, seemed obscene, Who would eat?....How anyone could? Our home intruded, invaded, shaded in grey This odd assortment of long faced people milling about I wanted to shout...."Leave us alone!" (I just wanted her home.....) And though I was numb, her voice filled the room "I know you'll be strong"... But this is so wrong... I needed to weep, please let me sleep....please make this a dream... Aunt Bea, who could not stop crying Uncle Russ, pacing and sighing Aunt Delores, tough as nails, taking command... as if our house had taken a military stand... Dad, who had been swallowed up by his own tomb of loss No place to lean....for this girl of sixteen, in a world that was tossed.... Into that black horrible space....It only happened to others It couldn't be me....it couldn't be her ...I needed my mother... I felt so alone, how could I be strong?? How hard to say "Thanks"...for those kind acts intended I was too young to know, a first step to mending comes bearing small gifts.....comes in disguise ...just one small thing to grasp.... People are kind, as they spin their cocoons They need to lend hands, they need to do good But time heals all wounds.. And I've learned and I've lost, How steep is the price and the cost Of living and dying, of loving and striving... It's the circle of life Her words were a song....and I still hear the sound I understand better now, ..and I've learned to be strong... Today I have baked Have made the best that I could I'll tap on the door, in my own neighborhood... When words aren't enough...I will bring them some food I'll extend a kind hand, a shoulder to lend,....I will make mother proud I can be strong...when the world has gone wrong All the things that I should When intentions are good. ~ ~
I've passed this way many a day and wondered as I strayed; Who had opened, what had filled the gap within the crib's dark bay. The opening small in the wall at once so spare yet alluring with tilted sides and gap toothed maw which now held field mice burrowing. The boards of red once formed a bed for stored feed of golden maze, these cedar shingles had sheltered the abundance of by gone days. The farm's gone now, no fields, no cow long past its youth, its heyday housing only bitter sweet and memories of corn cobs and play. Yet, here it stands, as I go by, and so quietly it brings to me; the lingering joy of laughter the faint echoes of jubilee.
Where have all the cabooses gone, Red slab sided, cupola, curved roof, Friendly stove pipe hat, every kids wish, Moveable tree house clickety-clacking Cozily rolling across America Snappy visored cap, brass buttons Blue coat, wind whipped leaning out One hand on the stanchion Waving an all clear lantern, nights shining arc Then crack, all along the line each Snapping to attention each car in its turn With a rattle rattle, huff and puff Away it roars into childhood. A memory of something important, Those years gone like borrowed money And now the dollars have all been spent But the secret stays in the heart An ancient fondness now focused A connection across the years Tears and a smile for that railroad boy
*****BEWARE ~ reads the file***** Love struck mothers in denial while the Pedophile robs the innocent child Lay
Mom sure loved willow switches. Those willows never wore out, she'd make them sing forever. Worse, I had to pick them out. I needed to change some things, mom did not ask for this mess. Time for me to grow up some. My first switch, too small. At thirteen and six foot tall, I then tore down half a tree. "No more whippings for me mom!" Mom cried tears of joy! For the TREES EVERYWHERE contest entered by John Trusty. A true story and I made sure to never make my mother cry again.
The knowledge that I am is not. Like an hallucination, I am nothing more than a name -- a designation of something that is yet to be. The future must unfold all that I become in later years. For now, I know not why, or, perhaps, even that I do exist....
in the absence of the moon in tremulous steps (treading cautious with wounded bare feet) footsteps echo down a corridor resounding…. a reverberation of agitation beyond the paint of alabaster (white washed mask) lay a bleak black spider crawl slightly insidious….. inside of tribulation In blushing pink magnolias see innocence slowly blossom fresh faced and eager like the face of a ripe peach big eyed and blinking in the devastation see it silently fade ripped from its skin muffled screams and half torn cores steel tipped lashes….. a cyclone tirade unbeknownst and nocuous winding downward a taunting spiral in a moment of recognition slumber the eyes of him clouds are always higher than one clamoring soul and small hands can reach redemption hunted…. a never ending journey swirling in a dry desert wind where is the ghost of a half crescent in the tumbleweeds and cactus....? a quizzical quest for identification A banshee wail of "who am I" beyond the blinding rays that shred these seeking orbs if only roses still unfold despite the mangle of a steel toed tread a thoughtless stomp on delicate petals that weep can there be restitution? in the absence of the moon in tremulous steps (treading cautious with wounded bare feet) footsteps echo down a corridor…..
There are smells and sights and tastes which always remind of Grandma with her rows of flowers bright, the red of poppy the gladiolas white, the blue of spring violets vain the scent of lilacs in the air and pine needles in the mix. Sometimes too, the memory of her sweet breath does rise of Black Jack gum or peppermint and all those summer times. The search for new spout dandelions the mushrooms other times And summer's end brought black blue teeth a blueberry's remind. We'd dig for bait with cans of tin, Idella, grandma mine, and rise from 'neath the patched quilts of calico so bright. By chance to fish within the stream, trout in our breakfast mix along with silly shaped pancakes so placed on china vain. The beauty of her sky blues eyes never was so vain that wisps of salt and pepper hair gave time its only claim. To rise like yeast a child within this mix to hear a bark of terrier and feel Babe's tongue remind of childhood days a Grandma's house. Idella our bright find. Take those blessed tender hands and rise Touch childhood cheek like dough of white and rise have no dark dwelling thoughts of blue blood in the vein the thinness of her fragile skin the dimmed light so bright just remember love full of the better times. And with the scent of venison and sizzling pans remind laced with home made butter, fried onions in the mix. How had Idella's loveliness from German bloodlines mixed together with the stalwart Grandpa Trussell's rise to birth the lively bunch of child my Mom's remind? When in the dark of night the rush of red rolls through my vein mind light flies and flickers like the candle flame of time and I return on winged horse within a dream so bright. Smell the wood smoke from the stove caste iron bright. See the siblings teasing cat and dog within the mix. The mantle clock's brass pendulum sings in time. Hear the winter wind blow through the rafter's rise like tucked in chicks the storms blew all in vain, now only grand kids live these tales and do remind. Always in the darkest times I think of my Idella bright and Gram reminds me of both joy and sorrow's mix soon like the wind on weathervane I'll rise to heaven and her kiss.
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION JS Lambert
retelling the words of the past pain that she caused--- forgive her sooner
There's a lazy old river in the back of my mind Our family would visit from time to time, Where the waters ran gently through countless miles Of live oaks and woodlands, placid and wild. Wherein one such place I still can trace The vestiges of those days Filled with watermelon fights and blue herons in flight And mom's apple pie, homemade. With wheelbarrow races and so many faces Of friends long gone like the rain… Cool, clean and like a dream Disappearing, just like they came. Playing Tarzan and fly from a rope we would tie On a limb hanging over the bank With a loud whooping yell and smile as we fell Into old man river and sank. Down to the bottom and touched the sand And popped back up once more Laughing like crazy 'till the sun set lazy Ending our day by the shore. With our dad and a book and that one special look That it's time to start saying our prayers Of goodness and grace and thanks for that place Where my heart still lingers back there.
Oh how fine it might be, But for a day or two, To be an airling again; Clean of conscience And innocent of what hurts I may have caused, For I'd never yet then Intended any of them. Age is wisdom, true. But it's also a tapestry of little guilts, Amid still littler expiations.
Chasing your tail forever like a dog Into the forest, confusion of the fog A door that's locked, without a key Asleep you found it, woke not to be Where is this tail, where did it go? Pondering on my knees, to and fro As a young lad, kept in my pocket Never will leave, stuck like a locket Trying to hold on, losing a tight grip Some just let go, abandon the ship Children don't seek it, too abundant Adults will tell you, it can be funded Look at children, exuding it affably As you age, begins to fade rapidly Replaced with things, can't add up Shows in spurts, then soon erupts That impalpable tail, where'd it go? Ask a child, even they don't know Innocence of fooling as a wee one Priceless, like the shine of the sun.
Could a scythe cut a slice from a sycamore tree? If a bird had no feathers what bird would it be? If a square had three corners would it still be a square? Will your curls always swirl if you tug at your hair? My curls will always swirl For questions make them so You will question me 'why' when my answer is 'no'. If I answer you 'yes' You will question with 'how' If a tree could grow knowledge I'd reach for a bough.
You were always honest unfortunately it didn't extend to yourself Regal persona was never exceeded by your accomplishments If only you were as important as you thought others thought you were Some bring joy when they enter a room no one would ever accuse you of that Leaving was always the best gift you could offer Being you could not have been easy No friends to speak of accept one maybe not even him I think he froze in your shadow He has begun to thaw in your absence Strangely I miss you Not entirely sure why Do I in some weird way owe you for my success? Without you I would not have been born You are gone Certainly not forgotten The scars are my reminder A multitude of memories mark my soul Not your typical father son fare Norman Rockwell wouldn't paint our picture I wish I could remember happier times some wishes don't come true Eventually our nightmare came to an end You gave us the gift of leaving Am I evil for being Thankful? You died alone Should I have flown to be by your side? Perhaps Somehow it seems fitting you parted in this way If I had come I may not have been able to hide my relief Now we both have rest Scars Left Behind Contest By: Richard Lamoureux
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear, Padding claws, death in white Sorrow in recurring nightmare Instinct's test; fight or flight? Camouflage against the fence, A challenge; my subconscious fear Ominous slowly moving silence, "Let me in, there's a bear out here!"
I was with you until I was ten, then the Lord came and took your hand; Goodbye was hard to say, I was so young when you went away. Time went on, abuse and pain, all my sunshine turned to rain; My father's house was dark and cold, loneliness consumed my soul. Then one day as I walked home, someone whispered, "your not alone!" I stopped to look about, nothing there so I went on. Once at my door, fear gripped my heart; I could see my step-mom was drinking, there was a darkness, coming, creeping! I hurried past her to my room, she followed me with doom and gloom; then I saw what was in her hand, my heart sank like shifting sand! She held a gun close to her side, there was a gleam of glee deep in her eyes; she lifted it up to my head, my eyes on hers in deep concern,I collapsed upon my bed. There was no sound, no light, no shout, but I could feel angels of God all about; My heart it trembled deep inside, as my fear turned to courage, I could not hide. I sat and faced death that day, and Jesus held me all the way; Soon she dropped the gun back down, she couldn't do it, and without a sound; she turned and crept away! I was twelve years old that day!
. Once when heading up VBS Money was very scarce Funding deficient Sanity chances gone Survival questionable While looking for something fun to entertain On a shelf sitting quietly A half-gallon jug Which contained magic elixir_slimmy_soapy Bubbles trapped in plastic All this mixture needed was two teenage girls Who had oversupply of energy To create bubbles in multiples These bubbles for little ones to chase_burst And want more to chase again Many bubble memories of happiness As those little ones did play But the best memory is of those teenage helpers Laughing as bubbles they did make In honor of Debbie Guzzi's Bubbles contest...
Raw awareness of Countless perceptions Cloaked in bravado; steeped in deception Attached by chance, or perhaps choice To fickle company with humiliation's voice Constant requirement for assimilation Or face the consequences of social annihilation Monumental effort to discover within Someone strong enough to survive inside this thin skin Ugly and cruel before it happens to you Watching the pack circle the unfortunate few, Who, now looking back were stronger than most And the alpha wolf leaders have all become ghosts But what did we know then of altruism? Walking around like open sores with clouded vision Running the gauntlet of harsh adolescence With fervor and passion not to be rivaled since Heady memories only; both wicked and splendid A secret locked time, into jaded minds blended Carefully, in age we tread; to not be exposed For the doorways back to our teenage wasteland All have been closed
Am I ~ a good mother Does she ~ feel how much I love her Can she ~ see the sacrifices I make Will she ~ understand they are in her namesake While my mind and heart were at war My "hero" ~ had something in store She ~ rescued me once more With a phone call from 700 miles away Enthusiasm in her voice ~ she went on to say "Guess what mommy; I have to write an essay" Topic:"The most important woman in my life" Her words gently removed depressions knife She ~ pulled my spirit from home in the dark afterlife She ~ continued with a few questions for me Answers she already had ~ all I did was agree If only she knew ~ how much doubt filled my mind "Am I a good mother" ~ how could I be so blind Is it wrong for me to be so far away Will it hinder the bond we've held since her "birth" day Without being burdened with question nor task She ~ rescued and reassured me in a flash Now when in doubt or I can't find my way I pray my guardian angel answers ~ as she did today Down on my knees I will look to the sky Thank God for the blessing in her eyes Thank him for hearing my cries And for delivering my reply "Mommy listen as I tell you why" Lay
. Safe secure Back seat_car not on tour Just to church on Sunday night_safe road One drunk driver pushing another car not towed Crossed center line even though had his whole side road Daddy went over tried to stay clear Car hit_ dad couldn't clear steer Now Bridge Fear
As dad and I trod over the newly tilled fields Feeling warmed by the prospect of the day's work His eyes aglow within those granite features I followed his sight to that field beyond as yet unsown He called it virgin soil or heavens harrowed field So long ago as I stood in awe of the man and his earth So clearly I recall the rich scent of tilled broken ground How the green corn melted with the sky horizons away His powerful leathered hands how gentle they were That chiseled brow that could see into tomorrow He told me the one thing to always remember A man is only as good as the work he puts into the world Then that mythical man from my childhood, my dad Pulled me up into the saddle and whooped at the horse We headed back to the barn to finish the day's toiling Now all these years later I understand his gift of that night As I stand with my son on the old harrowed pastures…
Looking Out My Bedroom Window When I was young I dreamt of places to go. I looked out my window. I could swing or slide, Or climb the Mimoso How will I go? I looked out my window. I could walk or ride my bike, Or take a limo. Where will I go? I looked out my window. I could stay inside, Or follow where the rivers flow. Now I must go. I looked out my window. I will do as I like, My dreams will follow.
20.12.2007 A DOLL'S CONFESSION I am a doll - A doll from your corner You used to love me And you used to care Now you've grown old - All good times are over But to say I'm lonely Would still be unfair I have hot tears to keep me company My face - stigmatized - A motionless smile! I've prayed for so long... Yes, it may seem funny - A doll praying that G*d would let her cry...
Listen to what i'm saying, and not just what you hear Don't jump to conclusions, and freeze me in a stare. You think you know what's going on, but truth is you don't So you can't tell me what i'm doing wrong, because who REALLY knows? For all that matters, I could be seriously hurt But if i said anything, you wouldn't understand at first. You tell me what I'm thinking, and why I act the way I do, Since when do you read minds? Thinking your eyes see through? Well this isn't about what you see, or even what you hear This is about listening to what I'm saying, but you couldn't care. I'm telling you this now, just to be treated fair Listen to what I'm saying, and not just what you hear.
I am a poet writing of my pain I am a person living a life of shame I am your daughter, hiding my depression I am your sister, striving to make a great impression I am your friend acting like I'm fine I am a dreamer, wishing this life, wasn't mine I am a girl who struggles with suicide I am a teenager, pushing her tears aside Side note: (Writing for other ladies out there, not so much myself, so don't worry about me)
I cannot get into heaven God I have tried! Suicide is a double edge sword Especially when you survive! Walking the streets at night Dazed and confused Longing to be loved Wondering... When is Mum, coming for me? "Does she still love me?" "Does she still care?" "Does she still think of me?" "Does she wonder, where I am?" I want her to come find me I want her to say she 'loves me' I want her to comfort me I want her to take me home And keep me safe And not forget hat I exist Like the way she treats me now I wish God Could make my Mum Magically appear Making this hellish nightmare On the street Disappear! "Send my Mum please!" So, all this can end! Before this last ray of hope Diminishes for good! I don't want to become The walking dead Forever forgotten as if I was never born! For this is the cruel, harsh reality Of living life, feeling unloved Uncared for, abandoned, Left to fend for my own A dangerous killer inside me Eating away, at my soul Something, no one can see As I suffer in silence My insides crippling! Lost, alone and frightened Weeping on a dirty Graffiti park bench Dirty tears Rolling down my cheeks Stuffing newspapers under my jumper To keep myself warm "What am I going to do?" "Will I make it through the night?" "Will I get raped and beaten?" "Will I be left for dead?" "Will I survive To see another day? "Is my life worth living?" Please God, I beg of you Have mercy now Please show me the way!
the life that you have now is the one you will cry over when you are removed from it it happens that many lives are taken away from the now and when we lived the can't grow fast enough is bicycle hard to catch up to crispy in leaves, and, bare under the bark
Where have all the cabooses gone, Red slab sided, cupola, curved roof, Friendly stove pipe hat, every kids wish, Moveable tree house clickety-clacking Cozily rolling across America Snappy visored cap, brass buttons Blue coat, wind whipped leaning out One hand on the stanchion Waving an all clear lantern, nights shining arc Then crack, all along the line each Snapping to attention each car in its turn With a rattle rattle, huff and puff Away it roars into childhood. A memory of something important, An ancient fondness now focused A connection across the years A tear, a smile for that railroading boy Those years lavished, gone borrowed money And now the dollars have all been spent But the secret stays in the heart of hearts. Oh, I wish to go back to those days, To see the world for the first time, In all its glory, the glory of a life yet to live.
The Fault Was Your Own With these words,I wonder if I shall break your spirit. With these stones and stick,I plan to break you. With this bloody revenge,I will have you wholesomely. As you slap away m hand let's say our fear is only great toward me yet your cowardice actions are full of jokes You nothing more then an eye sore,To prideful to even realize that'll you'll fall break before the day is done. Tick tock,Tick tock. Your clocks running thin,for if I a prideful beast breaks I'll be sure to bring you with me. Ha,such a dirty creature do you think you can hold me using such unpleasant scene from a forgotten past? Of course not these be not your past but you near future,Repeating everything over and over until it to much to handle. Turn around and drink your poison. Even though your no more child you seem to carry a burden not you own,I will have no regrets ending you pitiful life. How about I become you poison and let me end you futile life. I will decided how I die and not let some stranger decided who I am.For that purpose I wield this sword. What a foolish person,to wield a sword for the person you love is what it is and not for the sake of some unseen future.How can you possible care of a future when you stick yourself in a shell and refuse to leave a past that has forgotten you already. When will you stop with your nonsense.I have no past therefore my future is chained up,perfectly awaiting me.Let me repeat your punishment so you know. As this we recite the lines as one. With these words,we will break out spirits. With steels and spears,we shall break our body's. With these bloody revenge,we have betrayed each other for the last time.
If Silence Was a Language If silence was a language you could understand, You would hear me shouting, screaming, announcing for all to hear, 'I LOVE YOU!!!' If silence was a language you could understand, You would hear me praising you, declaring with each silent look, 'I'm proud of you', 'I trust you', 'I believe in you.' If silence was a language that you could understand, You would hear me cheering you on, as with each new experience or season, 'You can do this', 'You've got what it takes', 'I'm here if you need me.' If silence was a language you were fluent in, You'd catch the nuanced meaning, the subtle expression of respect, Behind each silent day that goes by, so as not to distract with clumsy words. But, just maybe, silence IS a language you can understand, And you DO hear me, loving you, praising you, respecting you, Trusting and believing in you, cheering you on and standing behind you. Of course, silence is a language so often misunderstood or completely overlooked, Drowned out by the clamor of busy lives, of many words, Or whirling thoughts that make it hard to listen. So, I risk a bit of repetition by stating plainly, in words that even I can understand, That you are precious in my eyes, a jewel of great worth, A daughter that makes me so very proud to be called your father. I love you!
Some say, the tale's not told of maidens fair and men, so cold, of how the dear and sweetest joy falls victim to the lustful boy needs telling Some say, the ways of life are harsh and maidens made to bare the cross, and lustful boys are not right taught that they are raised up and not caught needs telling Some say, the girl child or the boy, when left unguarded, luscious toy, are meant as morsels, so deployed and as sacrificial lambs destroyed needs dispelling Some blame the lamb, say ploy though insight would scream, lame decoy, and insist their innocent act merely coy so say societies naughty boys needs dispelling Some say, the rape a rite of passage, so the multitude of perverts say. The Universe seeking balance says THE DOGS WILL HAVE THEIR DAY. *329,708 reported rapes in 2009 worldwide/ 95,136 in the USA alone 8/2009
Drawing water from deep well Clear _cool refreshing water Drop bucket _watch fall That windless works That is if you do Turn _turn the rope Each turn gets much harder A lot like life, friend 1. Drawing (1) 10. Watch(1) 19. Turn(3) 27.Like(1) 2. Water(2) 11. Fall(1) 20. The(1) 28.Life(1) 3. From(1) 12. That(2) 21. Rope(1) 29.Friend(1) 4. Deep(1) 13. Windless(1) 22. Each(1) 5. Well(1) 14. Works(1) 23. Gets(1 6. Clear(1) 15. Is(1) 24. Harder(1) 7. Cool(1) 16. If(1) 25. A(1) 8. Refreshing(1) 17. You(1) 26. Lot(1) 9. Drop(1) 18. Do(1)
A little boy and an ant became great friends one day. But how to live drew them apart, and this is how they ran astray: In the Ant's heart was strict authority and constant work each day. Why wasn't the boy following someone, collecting for the food array? The ant would always build everything in exactly the same proven way. The anthill was underground and protected them perfectly every day. Not adding to the hive was a crime, no one would ever think to display. He knew every thing would be perfect, if everyone did their job and obeyed. But the boy wanted to build bridges and trestles, just like his Dad, each day. All of them out in the open, none of them under ground or hidden away. And inventiveness came with the notice, of new and exciting things in daily play. His life was really cool, not boring, as standing in a line would convey. He'd invent, and ponder, and build in exciting, new ways, to fit each new byway. Quick minded, and resilient he'd build, many fascinating and unique causeways. The boy and the ant eventually went away, not happy with how the other lived. They thought the other shortsighted and scorned, at what the other could give. But they went away without realizing, how very similar were their lives. For each would spend their time endeavoring to help others with their drive. But understanding is a harder concept than building a bridge or storing food. It takes a true gift to see the world as others do… The moral to this story is really quite easy for all to see… You can't expect others to live their lives the way you want them to be. Here, each was adding to their different world, only they could see. While one was building for a smaller, singular hive… The other was building for the hive of mankind.
Down the long graveled road Flanked by woods with filtered sun Evening sun signaling me to abode Where the bitterweed blooms,I run Join family outside in the twilight With the moon rising in the East Offering some soft evening light Fireflies begin to emerge_beast Their glow like small little suns Flashing on and off, on and off Catch them_place in jar motor runs On these nights watermelon sliced Homemade ice cream entombed In store bought ice with rock salt Both bought at the freezer store Where huge chunks of ice stored Mostly about these times memories Of you how you could produce Much out of nothing and fun When there was none__ What a character you were Laughter and joy bubbling over Then bam angry explosions Never knew which would come I always wonder what was wrong Now I know that you probably Had some type of mental illness Probably some chemical imbalance Sad _for you could have been Some very special person Had times been different Someday we will understand
Brains excreting pictures dreams stories "Chia Pet Poets" exploring emotional trade winds escaping reality for SIX minutes returning for seconds entranced for SIX hours thunder from fingers for days therapy for nights grins hidden deep beneath booger eyelids crusted wipe clean morning's green sleep disappearing dried dreams wetting the head in bed freeing sick insecurities exiled for years horror flicks on repeat since haunted childhood frozen within vaults SIX feet thick sledgehammer wrecking ball rehabilitation cannot promise demolition for good... diffusing demon whispers
Tender petals of youth wither and fade Stinging the soul with regret Sharp penance of years A yearning too deep for tears A token of repentance Times short pleasure to take Youthful mirth vanishes away
Where'd you put the body When the deed was done? What'd you have to say To lure him in? What kinda lies didja have to tell A tale syrupy-sweet? Was there any guilt at all As you held his little hand? Did you even start to stall Before spilling blood on the sand? You know you took him down Probably Better you than them You swear it's a mercy As you pull the blade But that story's getting thin So there's blood on your hands And now you're a man Now what's your plan? Child killer..... You start out your new life With some debt and a good wife Trying to never think of him Memories, you can hide But dreams sneak outside And play with your inner mind By the time you quit school Tired of being a tool Ten years had slid aside You can still hear his screams In your tattered, ragged dreams Echos that never died You know you took him down Probably Better you than them You swear it's a mercy As you pull the blade But that story's getting thin So there's blood on your hands And now you're a man Now what's your plan? Child killer..... Why'd ya do it?.... Where'd ya lay him?.... Why'd you lie? Who's the bad guy?.... Who's the victim?.... Who's this image in the mirror? You know you took him down Probably Better you than them You swear it's a mercy As you pull the blade But that story's getting thin So there's blood on your hands And now you're a man Now what's your plan? Child killer..... The world doesn't leave us much choice We have to kill our inner-child's voice Or they will do it for us I want to understand Is it better by my hand Than to have someone do it for me?
A single branch, clawed and pecked, fickle and straining, Lonely Nestling and father, paw and peck at their home Lonely branch, spasms in the wind Nestling and father paw and peck, yearn and whimper These Flightless Birds, on a fickle branch Young nestling skitters to the branch's edge Peers over on to sightless depths Shivers, ruffles withered feathers Spreads tousled wings And loosens fast aging down Stretches till overgrown talons graze the edge Like endless days before, Craning aching neck Eyes devouring the scene with a famished hunger- And whimpers Turns to father and warbles in longing, A sight that speaks of flight Dreams of swimming amidst the clouds To leave -slightest breeze carries words... to live The father, neck cramped, tilted, eyes swivelling to and fro Cooing and cawing, talons pawing A slight breeze, decrepit feathers hauled away in swarms A forlorn sight that reeks of abandoned dreams Warbling, cooing and cawing, pleading and pawing Pecking in apprehension, neck swivelling to and fro in exasperation "To leave father! To stretch my wings Lift from them the smell of rot and loss To fly father" "To fall! To fall, and to die!" -Wind whispers, To fall, to soar, and to live Nestling shuffles to the edge, Settles down amidst aching joints and a teetering ledge Peers down onto sightless depths -they bellow to him To fall, to fly, to Die! Fall and flutter amidst a shower of feathers Cramping wings crooked and futile To swirl into freedom carried by the stench of inevitability To fall, to fly, to die Little Nestling whimpers, nothing so glorious about death nothing so glorious without flight... Whimpers, shuffles forward, talons pricking oblivion Ruffles feathers, settles down Nestling wavers, branch bending Rotting down tickles his beak, claws dig deeper into branch Eyes feasting on sightless depths Endless fears... They scream to him To sit, to dream to fly... To sit, to dream of revitalized wings Stretching across the sky, an unveiling of freedom The shattering of chains every morning, with a stretch of wings The exercise of freedom to sit and dream to live to sit at the edge of that tottering branch creaking and bending under a restless and aging body peering over into the sky, where fickle wings will not go and with dreams, with dreams lift off this branch and fly, where body cannot and live
It is...within the tiny things of early morning, that moment breaths alive, it is within the tiny whisperings, that a melodye plays...like the very dear and the antelope, play home on the range. so goes the melodye of heart beat, that plays quietly the songs of soul, here a rhyme is born of day-light coming so soon, through the early morning eyes of the moon-light, and the starry dreams of twilight's transitioning... into the light of a love letter written to dawn. soul to soul conversing, as in this love letter, the letters just join hands with the words and just march across the sky...and at the end of the rainbow, there be plenty of golden time, way down deep on the inside, ...as the inspired choir, of a bumble bee, or a butterfly, starts to sing, like tiny things that live, flower to flower, blossom to bloom, watered and deeply cared for... O' Eden. I say, deep beneath the surface of a wishing well...where the pennies lay, I wish a sun-rise.
I remember the day I promised What is a promise? No one had ever kept the ones they made to me They disappointed me and left me in tears I wish I had the decency to say sorry But to whom when I made the promise to myself I promised never to let you into my heart I did not want to be hurt at all I swore to let our friendship flourish and discard all seeds of destruction but sense was overcome by passion Emotions eluded me and I went in not knowing that I was digging my own grave I got consumed by the flames cause I was carried away I looked into your eyes and could not see what there was but what I wanted to see I broke the promise, broke my own heart Betrayed myself, tricked myself, confessed my love and got a cold response My heart's pieces are exploded to granules now Now that the ticking bomb has finally exploded as the message was finally decoded At the end of it all..... I ask what is love?
Picture this… Her 1st memory Backward Garfield underwear and a t-shirt A body beneath her completely bare Jerry curls in his hair Into his eyes she stared… Picture this… She jumps up as the front door opens Scurries into the bathroom Dark wood paneling all around her No light; everything is a blur A light fixture with a long string dangling Metal tip on the end hanging… Picture this… A hook latch on the door Clothes on the floor She can't reach… stands on the bleach On her tippy toes Frightened as the wind blows She has to lock it; she must; but she froze… Picture this… She hears the voices The tap on the bathroom door She's still trying… her body's sore The door opens and she asks "Panties on backward?" "Why aren't you dressed; this place is a mess?" She looks up; fear on her face Her heart continues to race... Picture this… In he walks in only boxer shorts "I told her she could get undressed." "Hurry up and go clean up your mess." She just stood there and didn't say a word Her voice was never ever heard She was just 5 years old Her secret she never told... Lay
something we said so many times before a crack in the door a bit of a poet in all of us red dust sunset can't catch little bits o'memories tickles under the tongue a go-out and get you-one. . . of those strip the rags off the rappers and sell them off for clothes make math, in the mathematicians' presuppose fire sell it off to celeritas one more big blink in the big goggles golden fish missing in the adjustment of pince-nez had to turn out that way when all we did was adjust
Escaped, I thought I had, but I was wrong Ran, yes I did, thought I'd hid.. went along Can I sing a lullaby? Home was farce, felt life there TOO harsh Oh, Mama don't call me no trash Hush little babe hush-a-bye Can I sing a lullaby? Man was he good that smooth talkin' stud Carmel candy apple brown love hit like a thud Now, just look at me, says it ain't his blood. Can't sing no damn lullaby Can't have it, damn, I won't try! Lord, oh Lord, will he have his blue eyes Can I sing a lullaby? Time to decide now, NO Mama ain't here Can I sing, can I try? Thought I'd escaped, but got con'd, now stoned But, I can do yah better little one on my own Walk right out a here There's a cradle in the sky Walk right on out Baby, I sing ya, I'll try. I'll do ya better than my Mama did me Let ya live little one, LIVE and be my baby. * This form is called Blues Poetry
The Canvas of Night Stars like sprinkled sugar, lay strewn across the canvas of night, enthralled by the wonder of the cosmos, my dreams take to the heavens in effervescent flight, I bathe in the beauty, soaked in sublime delight, absorbed in moments of bliss, transfixed by the serene sight. Stars like sprinkled sugar, lay strewn across the canvas of night, and my being is infused with feelings of hope, for even in darkness I find the sprinkled sugar of hope's light. note: special thanks to one of my heroes, the late Dr. Carl Sagan, for making science accessible to younger me, many, many moons ago.
the courage to be different to buck the status quo to be a child and disciple of the God that we all know I know what it's like to be young, I remember my childhood I remember all of those times, the bad and the good I remember what it's like to simply stand out to be different from everyone else who was about I remember all the shame, the heartache and all the pain I was tall for my age and always stood in the back of the line from kindergarten to way beyond junior high but not only was I tall but my family had little funds I missed out on a lot of things after all was said and done but I had the courage to be different for I had a dream that despite my circumstances I would achieve great things for God did single me out, He had me on His mind He made a way when I could see no way and His path I did find when I look at the youth of today, I see such anger and confusion demonic tattoos, prison mentality, living on celebrity illusion totally unaware that they're inviting danger from unknown and familiar strangers more concerned and worried about their appearance not having the courage to try and be different you don't need to run with a pack or hang out with a gang God has a blessing just for you that He has arranged yet He will allow the enemy to have a limited takeover but He will eventually intercede with an ultimate makeover just possess the courage and the faith to just believe that the Lord God can do anything you can perceive He burnt the meat, He burnt the wood, the rocks and the water in the trench God can do the impossible if you believe He can make a difference He will take you to another level, He will lift you up His power is omnipotent and will fulfill your spiritual cup for it's not about the world's window dressing that the Lord God finds impressing He cares not about your designer clothes nor the type of car you own He cares only that you believe in His Son, the crown, the cross and the throne He will overfill your treasure chest just shut up and let Him do the rest so raise your children to trust and believe in the Lord to have the courage to be different and the balls to get on board to march to the beat of a different drum to know that with God victory has been won to not have a spirit of fear to know God is always near that despite any failures, faults and all things disappointing that the Lord God can still bless them with an anointing for God has given them an inheritance and the courage to be different
They said her time had come No place to run No place to hide No time for fun Just an empty vessel inside Going through the motions Numb. Overwhelming emotions They said her time had come They said her time had come Evil coats She wants to run She desires to have fun Not understanding why she can not play It is now the month of May Another denial letter Another denial to get better They said her time had come They said her time had come Why such looks of sorrow? She doesn't understand For there is always tomorrow Evil coats She takes a breath Smelling all of the flowers No place to hide Now literally an empty vessel inside They said her time had come Her time had come Her bald head Just four years old She looks to comfort from her mom and dad Why do they look so sad? Evil coats drag them away She never got that chance to go out and play Beep. Beep. Beeep.. Bleeeeep….. The room floods with long white coats Now to heaven this little girl floats Her time had come They said her time had come She was just a name No money, undeserving of fame Easy for her to be denied If only the suits had looked her in the eyes Who is to blame? Sent to the free clinic Now dead at four No insurance Ooops! What a shame… She could have been saved Now two parents at her grave Once a happy family, now destroyed Because THEY said her time had come
Some things are lost along the line Some things, beautiful and fine Driving down the lone road to the stream in my hamlet It's like yesterday; like catching birds from their nest I giggled as I drove by Mothers breast feeding babies and singing lullaby Naked boys rolling condemned tires, and Ripped virgins with little cloths coverings, as attires I giggled as I drove by. It's just like yesterday I remember Jerome and others as we gathered to play There was the moonlight rendezvous Where we all gathered, boys, and girls, all of us There was the tales by the moonlight, Ancestral heritages, sacrifices and the Lion's might The Lion's might, yet he falls beneath the crafty tortoise I still can hear the choruses; I hear my youthful voice I loved folklore songs. Wars songs for strong sons Let me try seeing if I can still sing one more; Yes! I still can sing "Omalingwo" Omalingwo, Omalingwo tee …… Omalingwo Omalingwo, Omalingwo nwam…… Omalingwo Omalingwo, Omalingwo dia …… Omalingwo Nne nei di na Otutu-aja-o………..Omalingwo Elikwue ma yu atuna ngwo ji ……Omalingwo Ngwo, ngwo onye oma………….Omalingwo My God, I feel new! I can still sing it! Oh God I knew! Omalingwo! Story of the child of a deprived mother Jealous king's wives over ready for murder Murder and deprivation if that will give them a son To sit on the king's throne and shine forth like the sun Story of good over evil. Omalingwo! A deprived mother's son. I giggled as I drove along, Remembering my tiny breasts, when they formed And more fortunate girls laughing me to scorn I remember these things till sadness beclouded me I am fully grown now; nostalgia overshadow me My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities We can't assemble again, just like broken pot in pieces Oh! The Eve's tempting apple of white collar jobs I heard Jerome lived and then died in Jos Killed by religious rioters with missions unjust. I heard Nwasombia is a head dresser is Lagos At 52 and still searching? Celibacy is obvious I heard Nosike is in aviation, head of pilots Even Chima is now in parliament in Cyprus Chima, who spoke big English like "opprobrious" My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities No more gatherings, just like broken pot in pieces Still driving along the lone road to the hamlet stream Still thinking of beautiful things The beautiful hamlet serene things.
Far beyond the edges of my reasoning a beautiful dream stood…waiting to come true A dream erected up from cold dusty earth to the searing proximity of the sun A star like dream, one built from hopes, aspirations and wishes One whose light is drawn in and out from other stars In its shadow lays the memory of soft spoken goodbyes and gentle kisses I have led my life on the side lines too afraid to repeat your mistakes See I learned the hard way what not to break The shattered pieces of her heart lay across the living room floor I have learned also then how to find my way across the battlefield of broken vows Because growing up when you're being pushed back and forth between What you got and what you wanted makes you question The truths that are your foundation You start to see cracks in the, 'I love you's' and 'I miss you's' And notice the fractures between the, 'You are my worlds" and the "I can't live without you's' See this father is why my heart has no door even to let me in Because I live in the consequence of these lessons that you teach But father know that you are a dream among dreams A dream whose quarter is rooted in reality And whose walls I built an inch from fantasy You are a dream whose ends touch the circumference of the hole that you left Your razor blade edges cut the inside of my mind and shows up as scars in my personality But you kept my world and heart from falling apart Now you are gone… Where he used to be, God please put a new morning and the fragrance of cherry blossoms in Spring, let the sunshine in and with it reasons to smile, let me hear the laughter of my soul and give me PEACE Amazing, calming, PEACE where there was none. Amen
My Favorite Classic T.V. Show A classic t.v. show that I thought was fun and silly. Was one I watched as a child: "The Beverly Hillbillies." There was Jed. Granny. Jethro and Elly May too. You just didn't know what these folks were going to do! Granny would offer possum pie or some "vittles." There was no tellin' what she was fixin' in her griddle! This family would "dance a jig." Or even "sing a song. And then they would all gather around "the cement pond." It didn't seem to matter what was served on the dinner plate. Ole Jethro would never get full. No matter how much he ate! Elly loved to have her many animals in the home. No matter where she went. She was never alone! This Clampett family brought joy through our t.v. I still watch this show. But just occasionally. This classic show is from a time in the past. But it still brings good memories that will always last! By Jim Pemberton "The Beverly Hillbillies"
Who... what... where.... Am I suppose to be here...now... staring at a screen looking inwards... wondering where I'm suppose to be. Questioning my existence... I know I'm here for something...WHAT??? WHY??? I wish I could put even a fingernail... It just... Hmmmm...still looking for confirmation Any takers?
Our Love (written in the style of spoken word) My world eclipsed itself in the shadow of your moon In the fading of your breath, the gasp of your final death blacked out to me was the image of your last re-birth Visions of your glory blind to my infantile sight I cried out to God "take me lord, for to take my light is to leave me unto darkness." Crippled and shamed I crawled to my side and wept to feel the fingers of your memory sweep my hair from my cheek As a child I raged that all he left of you for me was the ghost of a life losing vitality in time The world was numb but for the pain and I rolled in the evanescence of it wrapped like a proud shawl of mourning that in this right I would sacrifice and pay dignitary to what I failed you in If I could have died, I would have born your stripes I would have carried your cross and welcomed the nails home that all I could have of you was the agony of your leaving... My Mother I felt your tears too as I felt in them in your fading I felt the trails of your sorrow as you wept for your baby Just as your comforts were love and despair in one to me (for how could I know your life lived in me) your regrets were mine misery then my comprehension of a Mothers love was foriegn. Your presence drove me mad Your death erased my dreams and your life fed my memories. Some where the blackness of years numbned-greyed and I breathed Some where in a moment I could not name your presence gave me stregnth as I accepted the world I now lived But the majic of the moon faded, the faith you gave me staled the world spun because God commanded but my heart beat because you breathed it God is a jealous God, I whispered Is my loss my punishment for loveing her the more? The tears trickled to moisture and days cycled into years and I listened to your whisper, feather kisses tucking me to sleep, some where in the depths of the self I did not know, you loved, you prayed You wept for my loss and yours, but you loved you held me at night when I longed for you you cheered for my each new step and when I first held my son I heard in my heart your first words to me " My baby, My Baby' so then I understood and gave them to him In learning this new love of my life I began to understand not your death, but your life, your love, and why you still hold me and miss me as I miss you but I hear you, I hear him and I see my son I thank you both
Lashes unleashed leave Welted wounds scattered Blue body battered Tender to the touch broken blistering skin Blue seen within A bruised body heals But a broken mind always feels Blue bruises everywhere Lay
Children dream of growing up fast Focused on future, forgetting the past. Wishfully thinking, days go slow Blind to the breeze and trees that bow. While jumping rope and climbing walls Thinking: "Someday I'll be big and tall." Just like parents and pilots that fly Children want to reach up and touch the sky. Now ever so gently, lay me down to rest Praying for strength to do my best. To make it one more grown-up day Right here, where I once hoped I'd play. Dancing in the rain again Laughing wildly with family and friends. Such a fleeting, immeasurable time ago was I Merely a twinkle in someone's eye. Here today and gone the morrow Bitter sweet life's joys and sorrows. Oh to be so young once more And glad to finally close that door. Reflecting back in a mirror's gaze Life is shorter than a pin-knife blade.
They used to frighten me To be around old men With their backs all bent Their faces harsh to see Time's ugly scars etched in Freckled skin worn so thin. Their white and thinning hair And their extra large ears They look sort of queer With their bald heads a glare And canes they use to stand Held in old bony hands. So, I spoke to one one day And then while listening With eyes a glistening I was in utter dismay! To hear the things he'd done Of his battles lost and won! We became real good friends That wise old man and I And long did I cry When he met his end Now, I'm no longer scared Of old men everywhere! It's a proper thing anyhow That I no longer fear When old men draw near Because I live with one now But we never speak, you see Since that old man.... is me! Timothy I. Brumley
Innocent childhood dreams Full of lollipops and ice cream Pretending to be a princess bride Maintaining dignity and pride Innocent childhood dreams No longer filled with candy and flavors of ice cream Slowly you begin to see The triumphs and tragedies that are meant to be Innocent childhood dreams Replaced with ones that make me want to scream My once protected heart Now easily torn apart A heart filled with passion, love and hate Often questioning fate So I can't help but ponder this Is it such a crime to wish… To wish I could go back in time?
No One Told Me A cement block is tied to my heart Need a running start At night my voice carries like a lark Death's arrow has hit its mark My life is so dark The side of the ocean is full of sharks Some days I feel like such a tart I used to be such a sweetheart No one told me life would be so hard.
I can think of a time, when I was young. I was growing up and having fun! I remember how excited I was to have a t.v. There were my brothers, my parents and me! I remember at about the age of ten. My dad thought going to the theater was a "sin." There were many things that as young man… I later began to see, and understand! My parents shared God's love the best they could! And I read the Bible and was trying to be "good." I had my troubles… And problems bear... But I had a family, and much prayer! The truth of God's word helped sustain me! I knew how much he really loved me! My parents, may seem like they were "old fashioned." They loved their kids! With a Godly compassion! I'm thankful to be blessed with a Godly love! My family was a treasure from heaven above! I think about today, and how things go wrong. Many families don't seem to "get along!" I pray for the blessing of God, to bind them together! May we all serve him! Today, and forever! His love must be the cord that binds! His will must be the focus of our minds! May the presence of God bind us as one! Every mother, father, daughter and son! By Jim Pemberton
Early in the cool morn After the rain of night Single raindrop reflects The early soft sunlight Across the sea so wide In the darkest night hour A little girl with dark Black hair has no power A single moist teardrop Lays on her face so fair Teardrop reflects sad plight The bars of room so bare One raindrop reflects grace All the beautiful space One teardrop reflects hate On the face as he rapes
Back to the roots ever weaving Hands to elbows sweat streaming Back to the roots whence the seed began Deluded to think that along the path you ran The roots had not snaked behind your every stride And tangled your feet to fall hands first into your erstwhile guide Back to the roots where it sprouted out And take grasp of the past and heave with a shout How your roots have brought you back matters no more For you have fallen back into knots that have tripped you before So take grasp of the roots and yield to your past Knees bent untying the knots of fate's cast.
How's it going? How's it going dear Eric? Have you found your perfect place? Has time healed your wounds and blisters? Is wind blowing in your face? Tell me which star do you follow? Are you drifting like a leaf? Who's your princess, who's the villain? Have you found strength to forgive? Did you know there is an angel Watching every step you make? Praying that you make wise choices and you learn from your mistakes. How's it going dear Eric?
Sparkles, sparkles in the air, Oh how you are everywhere. One, two, three, four, More and more fall to the floor. Spinning around and around in the air, Lots and lots I find to share. Colors! More than I have ever seen. Lights and lights so bright. Wow, what an incredible gleam! Millions and millions of colors in the air, Tumbling to the ground. More and more fall all around, And a new one I have found. Sparkles, sparkles in the air, Wow! You are everywhere. Five, six, seven, eight, More and more accumulate. Spinning here and there, Lots and lots I grab to share. Shapes! Way more than I have ever seen. Brighter and brighter so light. Wow, what an incredible dream! Billions and billions of shapes in the air, falling all around. More and more fall to the ground, And then a new one comes tumbling down. . ®Registered: 1998 Ann Rich
(for N.K.) Gossamer thoughts, gossamer things weaved as sliken nightgowns with quarter moon kisses, lurking with left handed promises with secret eyes and au pair wishes. In morning memories, school girl, you and sun rise, maybe mantraing,"Thy will be done." Gossamer days, gossamer nights envision dawn and dusk as tenacious myths begotten by Genesis and Revelation. Spider (Greek astronomers gave no constellation) Mayan's Orion* for celestial landings and only seen at a bird's eye viewing or mountains or planes---you always succumb to "Thy will be done" by your demure designs. Gossamer thoughts, gossmer things, love, you, too, shall pass, from a school boy's mind, not thinking of you until dawns efface old webs and dusks become Penelope's face of quiet desperation, imploring,"Where? When? Why?" I'm now spinning webs spelling,"Goodbye, goodbye." While expiring, your nightgown creases... You're sleeping Arachne's and Selene's schemes with gossamer dreams and gossamer needs, while stars weave around quarter moon promises.
Sometimes I sit and ponder what it may be like to have parents, not always looking for a petty fight the love you feel, always being there for you day o' night I wake up fighting a constant battle, I feel like I am in a circus having to jump through hoops my parents hold to earn their admiration and approval Earning their gold star for the day I was a rebel since day one not trying to conform dancing to the beat of a different drummer Wishing to be accepted for who I want to be and how I seek to spend my hours nothing I ever do, seems to be good enough They talk about "emotional deposits" i.e. spending time with them but they spend too much time picking and proving reacting wrong, saying ignorant assumptions they push me away, each day 'further and further I go as soon as I make enough money I'm gone They act as if my artistic mind couldn't make money like my dreams are distant relatives of which I will never meet but I strive to prove them wrong Its bad enough being one person versus the world but when the army you fight is led by your family, your blood it's twice as hard to get up in the morning, when the suns rays dance on my closed eyelids I try my best to be the kind of person I want to be despite their efforts to kill off my individualistic soul I have given up trying to belong to which I was born unto I'm simply playing the game Hoping to win, one day the chance to be myself as I feel emulates me, and regardless have a proud Mommy and Daddy I do pray, I shall be free to be Heather Rose Marie
When the misery of this thing called life, grasps your throat tightly from behind. Think not of the troubles you've endured, rather trust in yourself and you shall find. Believe that you serve a higher purpose, to which no other shoes could ever fulfill. Have total faith in your personal beliefs, and watch as this grief diminishes at will. You are the most important aspect in life, and your self-worth simply cannot be sold. You hold the only key to your happiness, so use it wisely before you become too old. You see, I've lived my humble life for others Daughter, just as I sadly see you doing too, Please don't lose sight of the beautiful spirit, which illuminates the darkness because of you. Remember to prosper and thrive continually, for the gift you are could never be replaced. Love and respect yourself with great honor, and allow the rest of your life to be emplaced.
"He's Our Joy" He talks funny But his disposition is sunny Even though his tongue is too long He's not a loss Just because his eyes are crossed He's never going to earn a degree To his parents he'll always cleave He may have Downs But he's a joy to have around The public might shame him But they don't see what makes us love him He's our precious joy Our very own Mongoloid.
It came into my mind of long ago How the clothesline held diapers in a row When on those very cold days of winter Those diapers dried on folding wooden dryer Hanging over that ancient floor furnace While children scattered toys skillfully Experts were they at their fun time of play Now there is no very ancient furnace The children no longer play on the floor They have gone their very separate ways Different each in personality Temperament difference now plainly seen
A child is born all loving, forgiving, honest, a special child of the light, eyes wide open, awake, the wolves are happy, to feast at the table of its suffering. Feed it just enough love to survive, milk it of its light, little by little suckling its love, its forgiveness, a sweet delicacy for a vampiric world. The child becomes a young adult... control, conformity, submission, overwhelming expectations, no freedom, no love, no peace, a barrage of others suffering, cant get it off me, out of my head! out of my heart, it hurts! Its all too much! Why do they all hurt me? Why are they not honest like me? How can they be so mean to me? What is wrong with me? I just want a taste of love, to remind me why I am alive!!
I am a Robot Who cannot feel The shame that sweeps over me I am a ghost Who cannot be touched By your wandering hands I wish I were a God Who could send you to hell To be tormented for eternity I wish i were invisible So the stares would slide away I wish i were superman To save others from my same fate To save them from monsters LIKE YOU
"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows. Her life had been a simple happy one. There were no pains and no troubles. Life was life and people were people. Life was simple. and life was all about tomorrows. Life didn't know about sorrows. Her sorrows. Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. They were never there, but where? First to be sad in the naive town of joy. Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there. It was non-exististent. A meager thought and a blessed memory. She tried and tried. She failed and failed. Life was no longer hers. For Pain was her only possession. Her curse. She lived and she died. Yet, her legacy was passed on. Never was it gone. "No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, "Save them."
Things I have from yesterday, those days from years gone by remind me of those younger days and dreams that touched the sky. Times were so much simpler then, the seasons that we knew reminded us of days when our boyhood dreams were true. Living life for the moment, o, what we would not do. It's sure we would have known that these times would soon be through. Looking back on times we had inspire these days ahead. Coming years still find me glad as dreams still fill my head.
vacant days of big fat cats little old ladies with big white hats summer naps followed by soft summer nights turning into silver dreams of..... conjured up lovers and riding machines pasting in books of innocent looking guys with high flying schemes brothers tender then hostile; old loves gone cold........ waiting for a ring by a small black phone
she was an angry woman not much love, she wouldnt put up with a man abusing her, the mistake women made then, prostitution for security, selling your heart for money, she regretted having me, lost freedom, tied down, single mom, poor, abused by the culture, her love was shown in that she didnt abandon us, even though she was tempted, her mother wasnt that strong, my heart didnt value that, i wanted to be wanted, loved. I saw the other children, wanted, loved, rich, my blinders on, rose coloured glasses, envy, despair, no self esteem, worthlessness, less than human, not expensive enough clothes, not nice enough car, "drop me off a block from school" "I am not shopping at wal-mart" something i didnt notice then i have always been blessed with beauty i never even saw the girls that adored me too afraid, to poor, to stupid, If my mother didnt love me, how could another? greedy, selfish women, angry, years of oppression, and taking it out on me, the male, the enemy, "no love from mommy". Now i pay the price for my fathers oppression. the gay guys arent as wierd as i thought, at least they are getting laid. The women i meet now, if i love them i am not good enough for them if i use them or tell them how pathetic they are, they love me, addicted, cant leave. On occassion i love a weaker girl, i see their potential, usually sexually abused as a child, they will leave, hate me, for my honesty, too afraid of love, of closeness, get pregnant and leave or kill themself, one or the other, such drama, If a child wont end their suffering then death will. What did i do to deserve this?
Dear Soap Bubble, bright focus in an air-light reflection of the ephemeral beauty of this world diaphanous soul in despair sincere fearful innocent hesitating uncertain distrustful pure Emotional universum rumbling inside the anima of a tiny simple passionate creature I shall enjoy thy sight Shall I live in fear for you not to burst Shall I be the wind to blow tenderly directing thy path Thy shelter shall I be I surrender myself to thee
to one who was never born I cannot fit you amongst dead sisters; put you to sleep with humming lullaby. I cannot, for you have never been born. Mapping a womb sometimes reveals you, coiling, illusory and innocent. Just any womb carrying a girl. You seem iridescent midst mother's warmth; it means nothing to you, if you may never be born as my little sister whom I have not put to sleep with a song. © 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
MY GIRL Lazy summer days Pigtails, French braids Long silky hair blowing In the wind Days forever gone Tears well up in my eyes And I long once again To hold her close To see her smile To hear her laughter Tinkle like rain Lord, shower down from heaven Encouraging words of Together we will be In that glorious place A world without pain Hearts completely healed Memories of yesterday Live on today Hope of a tomorrow Full of promise mja
The joys of flesh, a smile to wreath the maid of morn an inner world to project out, of holy chi we're formed. No need to cling like over ripe fruit to a heaven far above, We we're made of silver stardust and we were made from love. Look not to moon or sun to see, look deep to questing heart, hug the night with outstretched arms, the dark's another part. Gifted are we with all we need, this is no metaphor, we have a heaven here on earth, yet still we ask for more. Be not the spoiled and soiled child tired of his toys mature, grow up, grow inward, see all your heavenly joys!
Wind on a warm summer day. Fir limbs sway like a flapper from the roaring twenties. The breeze carries a resinous scent of pitch and earth, unleashing a flood of memories thought lost to time. The campfire smoke and embers still glow.
A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa-- now I am free. I was dead before I even entered into this world, a place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without the love and understanding I finally know in the rich harmonies of your voice, my Lisa-- which sets me free. Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening, inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with bigotry--transformed me into a joyless waste of ashes. From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile looks from across the dinner table. But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender- ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for me despite him and my child-like self-loathing: I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from me simply because it was too easy to not rape from a child whose only fault was that he was born defenseless and white. O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice-- now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and attacks; free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams of Spring again!
I wish they taught more about Heartbreak in English class; That I would see your face In stormclouds, when Bronze from the sunset scribbles Our names in the sky. It is happening every day. I am no prize In my Rossington-Collins band teeshirt And deliberately torn jeans, Sitting on the end of the street- The place where horizon brush strokes Abruptly end. "Quiet" Jenna-Nichole Conrad Wordsmith
angels are sprawled in the longest reach my children could snow-afford on my former green lawn over-played carols over-play the car ride to the store, where they will continue an embarrassment of lights dangle 'side a staple-holed roof trim somewhere, not 'nough off too far, there are yards watching snowmen come and go behind the windows that hold kitchens the bills are a pilin' the car's in the driveway needing to be plugged in the mailman's griping 'bout the weight of his sack dropping off cards he'd gladly drag back the t.v.'s got little relief there's a log burning on a 24 hour channel that someone someday'll commercial the crap out of office parties forum the drunk, "Here's what I really think of you…" spark the short lived, misappropriate romance the mall cattle call. . . from parking lot to till warrants wrappings to be hauled away to some landfill waiting for Valentine's Day
She looked at him with unsullied wide eyes blue She'd never loved or would a man so much, so long. She trusted him. He loved her and he was her world. And she his. She knew no other man nor men knew her and all was pure, as she was too. She just knew him, his healing word his gentle kiss his soft brief touch and all he had he gave, and all she took and wanted more, for all was safe in those, his guarding arms. She loved to laugh and he did too in those the days when she felt small She thought he was a force at times not man, but just for her and to her all his love he gave. She shone to him, the life he'd made. Now she gave him love for life, her gift to him She was his life and would give his for her, should shadow cross their path. She never thought that he'd do bad or break her trust or worse her heart She could not know that life is hard or that man is flawed for all his will. She would know but not today, today or now, tomorrow holds its secret sorrows still for her. She holds his hand as on they go, the sunshine's bright on wide eyes blue, the girl, her dad, as one. For now.
Black and white photographs Ink and paper history Of faces and places unknown to me Images faded, edges tattered and worn Stored in the small wooden box where dolls once lived Retrieved from the closet when relatives come Together they laugh and remember The car, the house, the dog, the war The friends who have since passed on Promising that some day They will note the names and the places - But each time the box is retrieved The memories fade Like the names and the faces Of the friends who are now gone.
Child Within. Transparent Tragic colors Secret emotions Ears hear too much to bear A household war day and night Sibling can escape all the fright Enduring more, validation null What happens to the adult-child within? ©Holly P. Moore December 2012
Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship, Its curving timbers bend and bow, Upon a mast flapping about, Are white sails all eager to go. A voyage over distant seas, Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship, The rigging whistling in the wind, Is music playing to my ears. For me a life upon the wave, Oceanic winds my only guide, Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship, On its journey around the world. Ahhh! A brave captain I be Sending my crew this way and that, Until mum calls us in for tea, Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship. Form: Empat, Empat
Winter is also celibate. The conscience is moving, A frozen light in a frozen eye. It's raining much looser, Down a ripped tree. I couldn't have, I couldn't have, in this sin-sick tenderness. ___ My face is cracked in my fawnlike fingers; And the nose betrays an inner child, who Wouldn't listen to sparrows about being catched. I just insisted fur was wings. ___ The feminine chill on the palm must be sorrow; When I think of church bells, or mother- That I am haunting as raw love.
Trees still shade the road where Gramps and I once rode in his old green car -- I drove -- on dusky early evenings in my fifteenth year. We stopped, as he insisted, at every spot where an armadillo scratched among the tender greenery in ditches. I was dispatched, with Gramps' strong wood cane, to kill a pesky armored creature by striking hard, once, upon its snout. Gramps waited in the car, called encouragement or condemnation: "That's it! Hit him hard!" or "Can't you do a damn thing right?" He knew I didn't like to kill but was determined to toughen up my softness. That hard old man was not accustomed to being crossed or contradicted. But part of him was tender, and he had a sense of what was right in the bayou country of his day. How could I tell him that I hated killing just to please him? Often, I killed, then killed again, although, at times, I'd miss the snout or be slow to follow up, and permit an armadillo to escape. Sometimes, I'd temper force with moderation -- I'd stun the creature, grab the tail, fling it far into dense bushes to revive and live another day. My grandfather eyed me darkly then, but often kept his peace. He gave me the treatment I gave those stunned armadillos. Could he have felt the same toward me as I toward them?
I Cried Today I am thirteen today You would think I would be happy Yet it is hard to even crack a smile With everyone wishing me a Happy Birthday To me it's not that happy As today strange voices carrying on inside me They say I don't deserve to live They say I should die I am thirteen and I Cried Today My sweet sixteen isn't so sweet I just want to hide Go back to sleep Or simply disappear What is a girl to do? When she feels so sad, lonely and depressed I don't even have anyone to turn to I am sixteen and I Cried Today Today I am nineteen It is my graduation day And while I am smiling on the outside I feel like I am crumbling on the inside Those voices don't give Never a break No rest for the wicked they say I am nineteen and Today I Cried I am twenty-one No drinking for me I am in a hospital as my first sip was almost my last Who knew I could be so allergic I am twenty-one In a hospital and I Cried Today I am twenty-five I thought I was in love Until I walked in on my fiancé In bed with my best friend My heart feels so cold I am so alone As my world has just turned upside down I am twenty-five and I Cried Today I am thirty I am working hard To get back my life Take control of my future And actually see the possibilities of a tomorrow It is a lot of work With a hard road ahead I am Thirty I Never Cried Today I am thirty-four In a few short months I will be thirty-five I am not alone I realize I never was Surrounded by people I love People who love me Married to the love of my life My dreams are coming true I feel so happy I am almost thirty-five and I Smiled Today By: Jean Shular
They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so. Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor. But I doubt they're really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so. And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow. They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day. And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display. Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm. And 12 stick close together as they show they're many charms. I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends. Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end. Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat. We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat. Of course he's really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose. For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so. As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...
You are not the man, you want to be You said you were my Father, till, I discovered different Enduring, daily beatings Bashing the living day lights, out of a woman and a child Repetitive, bad ass attitude, nasty streak Mean and aggressive! Fists, knives and guns, your weapons of chose Out of control, abusive, devious Relentless, over – bearing! Breaking me, piece by piece Confusing a child, with unhealthy love Hand fed your bullshit, brain washed Using me as your human, punching bag This innocent child's blood, staining your callas hands My child's curiosity, asking you one day "Why do you hurt me and Mum?" Your retort: "I am not your blood!" I didn't understand, back then Now, as an adult, I clearly understand! Believe me, when I say There was never a day that went past That you didn't remind me of that! My freedom, restrained My sanity, tested Caged, like a wild bird in captivity Behind bars, looking out Here, I am today, free from your grip Nursing, this inner child's, bleeding love
Some of those boyhood memories, only so often come around, so when they do, I set them free, on paper I write them down, When I was younger living at Blackiston Mill.. I had a rocking horse, and I remember the day I took a spill, as I hit the floor head first, And I remember my pet squirrel, and me learning how to roller skate, the very first time I kissed a girl.... before I was old enough to date, And I remember when mom and dad, moved us to the city.... when I was just a lad.... listening to the songs of Conway Twitty, Yes, he'll forever be missed by me, and his songs still come to mind... a great writer and singer of musical history, One Great Legend of all times!
The friar Revered innocence You've got to try it put it on your lap a smiling little thing still sheer and brittle if possible blind or deaf, almost genderless. It just sits there an unweaned lamb. Take the little head gentle it downwards to the issue of our charity Lead it, shovel if necessary. Don't be scared! Today it's allowed your parents too far: the force of every belief too big to grasp. Sooner or later it pushes to where we assumed our hands were in power.
theres a demon running towards me in the refelction in the mirror and the closer that he comes his intentions becomes clearer as the shadowy figure draws near with every step he makes the rythmic beating of my heart pumps fear with every breath i take like the devils tools and instruments i hear a drum and violin because in my ear rings influence for all i've done in vial sin and as this cup i drink becomes and overflow of shame each thought that i think manifests itself in blame but who am i but a tainted soul who has not yet tasted life a coward growing very cold a sinner with a heart of ice the world can never understand the thoughts that i create because my thoughts are simply not for man but somewhat more for fate many put on a facade and play the role of being nice i find that very odd using deception to entice can i defect from this world of lies? or must i go with the flow? no one answers my question why but everyone "seems" to know they are just as confused as chickens without their heads the blind leading the blind into the land of the dead
I felt my thoughts run wild Was I really a demon child Thoughts tightened my head grew light I hoped my expression was on my face right I absorbed your statement surety taking flight Your questions growing old Your coming across as way to bold So this is the child you stole Standing here now I felt guilty as sin My emotions had just let little old Peace walk right in I was sure that without me the child's future was dim So I filled her right up to the rim Without me here she surely would be condemned Who would look for me now I live in the brim As I fought the fear Of having you here It hurt to the bone Making her a home So I opened the door But her back to where she was before Because I love her even more I stay here to even the score
I want to taste her. Not anyone specifically, I just crave to know what it all could really mean. I would fall for her. Knock down these Berlin sized walls I have up. But my world sucks because Her is just a figurative way of discribing something that may never come.
A rewrite of the previous,,after reading it again the one before this,,, I felt it was sending the wrong message,,,,,,at first to me it was what I wanted to say about my make believe sister,,,,,,only that the lines I wrote, could be mis-construed to another meaning. She is a dream girl, sibling, I never had. Not to sexy, or even beautiful to see, She is not exactly good or even bad. She is just my fantasy, designed for me. Not to sexy, or even beautiful to see, She is mostly happy, hardly ever sad. She is just my fantasy, designed for me. She has no mother, not even a dad. She is mostly happy, hardly ever sad. Impossible you say, this could never be, She has no mother, not even a dad. A dream girl as my sister, oh gee. Impossible you say; this could never be. Though it is true, she is my abnormal fad. A dream girl as my sister, oh gee. What I always wanted, since I was a lad, Though it is true, she is my abnormal fad. She is not exactly good or even bad. What I always wanted, since I was a lad, She is a dream girl, sibling, I never had. By Cecil Hickman Written for Sponsor Paula Swanson Contest Name Pantoum
The angry bees or the mild Grew together in the hive in the house next to the tree Although couldn't understand as a child That any of bees would hurt me Those bees mating and taken to flight Would cover and sting anyone in sight Where we all alike hit the dirt lying low Not wanting those bees to sting us that day Now fifty-seven years later remembering you You who was a hero to me that way The orchard probably is not longer there Wonder if those bee hives' boxes still sit Next to the house at the edge of orchard Or did those bees go back into the side The side of the house through that tiny hole Back to their hive and family
Its dark cold and wet below I'am all alone does anyone know? I fell the warmth of my padded earth; Trying to make out what life is worth. I wonder what's up there?.......how will I know? It must be good from that great glow. HeY! I broke through....I can see..... There is more around than just me. Ah,what a releif I'am not alone; I see others small like me too growing strong. It feels so good to be on top.....but I am still growing, will I ever stop? Up,up,up and out is how I go,in heat,rain,wind or snow......... Alas........I AM.
Days come and days go, Like a pendulum's to and fro, But night's stay with me awake, As if a world is in the make, Only one thought holds on to my mind, As a species does to one of its kind, The child I saw in the corner of the street, Though not a home to him, but a retreat, The road has relinquished him of food, But has taught him to fight his hunger, The open sky has gifted him the coldest of nights, But has taught him to fly high in the dreamy air, The sickness was visible in those deep black eyes, But they were all decorated with the aspirations, He was though fighting for his necessities, But was having all the energy required for his illumination, The moment those black eyes fell into mine, There was a question for me, and for the divine, Why the one having all the opportunities fail to achieve, While the one who can achieve is not opportune, May be the destiny is answering this to us, As this brings the status quo to an equilibrium, As there is no one who gets everything, And there is no one who gets nothing, but some.
When I was three foot tall I could fly. Now that I've reached near six and descending things have become more, grounded. It wasn't an aeronautical event or some Newtonian physics explanation, or even a Las Vegas prestidigitation, it was merely that my mind, that is to say I, could entertain the obvious conclusion of the possibility that if events, things, were just right - JUST right, that I would be able to see a view I had not seen up to that point in time, and, in fact, haven't, for some time. When I was a yard high in my front yard, I could arise, even higher than a yard, brightened, and too, wide-eyed wondering at the way the neighborhood looked from above the treetops...who knew, I thought. Did I get there by that some certain gait, neither too fast nor too slow, but, like some Goldilocks visa, just right? The sunshine vitamin D blowing breezily around porch poles and branches to press my face. Who knew indeed, who knows now, or soon, what can occur without Google glasses, or no child left behind or digital synapses to bit-by-bit, obscure the inherent, the wonder, the view borne away from civilization facts to life outside or, above our gravitations. When I descend toward a vertical yard again, maybe that obscurant vision-set I have carried pensioned toward epilogue will fall away like deciduous leaves and I'll be able to see the branches under life, and rise away again. © Goode Guy 2013-07-05
I held back when I could have gone forward Since I was a child I felt cornered and tortured And every attempt to change was a bluff, since On my hands and feet I put the heavy cuffs – Because of fear I said 'yes' many times when I could have said 'no' What my life would have been like I will never know I remained seated when I could have stood up I willingly lapped up the poison oozing from my death cup – Because of fear I went left when I should have gone right, and I shut my eyes when they should have been open wide I smiled silently when I should have cried, and although I have not met my death yet, many times I died – Because of fear
He stood on the tracks in the middle of town and thought of yesterday with a heavy frown. Behind him, a life he chose to forget. Ahead a new day, beyond the sunset. Memories of his childhood like a train wreck left him battered and bruised, a noose 'round the neck. A mother who left him before he was nine, a dad who never worked, stayed drunk all the time. His brother, a hero, lost in the Vietnam war. His sister, an addict, he could help no more. Nothing left for him in this dead end town, and so there he stood taking one last look around. He heard the train whistle and his heart felt renewed. With hope for the future, happiness, he pursued. As he boarded and took his seat on the train, he waved goodbye to the heartache, goodbye to his pain. He closed his eyes and fell into peaceful sleep. Then awoke with one memory, he decided to keep. Long ago, Grandpa gave him his pocket watch and said, "give wings to your soul or you might as well be dead." Just a boy at the time, he did not understand. Looking up now, he thanked Grandpa, watch in his hand. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
"Dickhead" There is a saddened kind of shame a name that's cruel and thus demeans, elementary obscene a child can not reach deep enough. It started when I read above my third grade level reading group and followed to my brownie troop then fearful fighting, flight to home. And in defense I'd use my gift to make up names and write mean songs- I'd teach the boys to sing along and charge their chocolate milk money. With my moustache a poor disguise, with puffy, rubbing, teary eyes I made myself apologize though only choking squeaks were heard. Nicoleslaw Dickhead was my name a name that's cruel and thus demeans, slimy side-dish dung for brains- a child can not reach deep enough.
The sun glistens heavenly over our heads;thus casting black shadows as we walk in togetherness. We prespire ,skylarking in our seizure,in youthful bantering as we reach our destination. Sudenly the wind is crisp,there is an occassional breeze about us pressing against our faces. Feet cooled by the soft feel of wet sand,we emerge into the tranquil waters....... we rise,we laugh,we dry ourselves and journey home. The lean season begins and the sound of rain on our roof-tops restrain us to indoor activities. The once humid air is cut sharply by the smell of moisture and precepitation. Water trickles slowly down the window pane as I gaze unpatiently for a clearer day. I bombard my mind with many insane questions,knowing fully well that there are yet no answers.
Two hearts beat, now beating faster; beating until they're one Two souls breathe, now breathing deeper; breathing until they're done Two lovers see forever, and forever is where they run One child comes home tomorrow for life has just begun Even when the rainbow's glowing, the skies can seem so gray Even when the wind's not blowing, the tides can turn your way And when the water's raging, beneath skies that seem so blue It's just your body aging, and it has nothing to do with you So now when our God comes calling, I'll hold your hand and stroke your hair Yes, as snowflakes start falling, I will look for you everywhere And Mother, as you start flying, remember as you rise above Marlene, you are not dying, but finding everlasting love One child goes home tomorrow to embrace the Father and the Son One child who knows no sorrow, for life has just begun
One lonely loved teardrop Splashing in an ocean Causing ripples in innocence For the introverted child He or she, her or him Understanding a fact of truth Emotions tangled in emotions For sight is finally whole An abundance of thoughts Due to immense exposure to life The wishes of an infant are granted Age is given in its complete nature No longer is the son sheltered No longer is the princess protected Who to trust? Who to avoid? Boys and girls become fallible Girls become all that is woman Boys become all sides of man Both succumbing to pressure Each learning through experience To be a lady or to be promiscuous To be a gentleman or give into lecheries To live for frailties or meaningful morals Each choice having consequences The ambivalence of life is understood Precious moments and painful memories Happy and hated days become entwined The little girl longs for love The little boy longs for guidance Independence is finally tested Each falls into a frightening environment As a teardrop in an ocean
What happened to all the honey bees That used to swarm all around and abound And would cover the fruit and holly trees Now, you rarely see them buzzing around? Where have the huge flocks of blackbirds gone That I recall who would blacken the sky And bruise your ears with the shrill of their song In the spring and fall as they flew by? What happened to all those water frogs That I recall whose deep rhythmic bellows Would echo back down through the hollow bogs All summer until the leaves turned yellow? What happened to the little horned toads That I would catch for a pet as a boy That crawled all over the fields and dirt roads And made a neat little pet to enjoy? Why doesn't the wolf still split the night And chill my heart with his long lonesome cry As he howls away at the full moon's light Adoring the illuminated sky? Where are all the calls of the bob white And the lonely calls of the whippoorwill That used to pine away all through the night And could be heard in almost every field? Where are the spine chilling panther screams That mimicked some poor damsel in peril And would often conjure up awful dreams Of gruesome creatures wicked and feral? Are they on a premature path into yore Has adequate time been duly assigned For us to say, "There are no more...." Or could it be, I've just outlived my time? Timothy I. Brumley
What if the tables had been turned... And it was her, looking at me Seeing what the eyes can't believe And what the heart can't embrace I'm looking into sorrow's face The sadness wraps itself around her Like a blanket of grey fog A face so pale, so ashen and cold as a winter's day Betrayed and abandoned by her youth The girl she used to be....why can't I find a trace? A youth taken away by choices, By circumstance, by life experiences By things that I cannot know My memory of her has been stolen away In this unexpected, brief encounter I swallow tears in my grief, as I mourn the vision That had been tucked away in my heart for so long Is it regret, or is it a guilt I cannot name? A friendship born in childhood, so young, so carefree She, with bright eyes, and blond hair that curled Around her high cheeks and rosy smile She was the one who shined so brightly, Who's charm, who's gay laughter I had so admired A childhood where we danced together in sweet grass under sunny skies Where is the innocence, the radiance? No longer there, not even a glimpse of the girl I knew Oh, how I weep inside Now, here, this meeting by chance After years that had taken us to seperate worlds In my mind, and in my dreams, she had always been The fair maiden, the one who had held my hand Two little girls who made promises Who sat in the dark, under a summertime sky By the light of the moon and wished upon the stars. The stars now gone from her sad eyes, the look of weary miles Now fill the void ......as one more time..... we say our goodbye. What if the tables were turned And it was her, looking at me..... ...................................................................................................... In honor of Desiree's Contest "What If"
I've tried to tamper with such precious time Looked forward and back with open eyes I wonder about the day I'll die Will there be rain or shine? Maybe both, maybe none As I speak another life has begun Wish them luck as they carry on Bewildered within these starry nights I thought of time when I have lied Oh such precious time It flies (im sleeping outside) Signs and dreams lead me to believe That somehow, some way I'll be something great Do I choose to be nieve? They'll never know Do I choose to be so weak? It'll never show (I'll be sleeping outside) Love is such a clishey it seems Something I could only see Her eyes drew us in like summer heat Cupids arrows were made of clay Oh yes I've longed for this day I knew I wasnt lying anymore (I always sleep outside where the weather is nice I can feel everything for what it's worth dont give me signs or written lines give me your solid words)
My short name, my lucid green day My South Dakota doll accent, my life-jacket My worn through the knee blue jeans A red ant struggles between the last two toes.
Shades of color bounce within Singing their hues dancing in place Vivid lines colored outside Rules broken with empty space A midnights dream heard and seen Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye Wings touched flown and plucked Gliding like a bird up in the sky Wishes from pennies thrown into tears The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain Drowning from the shadows The flood paints the day Words speak volumes of silence hidden Their sounds blind to what they see Mirrors of nouns and verbs Their meaning and secrets lost at sea Emotions ruled by laws of language Spelled in boxes of glass Melted from sands inside That voices strangle to grasp
Abomination of domination in multitudes of devils With strange shabby solitude beyond the evil`s Rancid rape, luminous leafage and black Bamboozle, At the sheepfold`s distressed mind, bamboos squabble In luxuriant green of the rain forests `flame The loud lukewarm rain with long steps came. In the sky the yellow got in the solitude's ship. Easy to accomplishment a new relationship With the raspberries `rancor and chime of fear With old attempt to test the hell`s hurtful huge tear; With hydrochloric hatred and much affection; Tender hope of chlorophyll to cherish temptation And passion in the inner soul`s struggle to taste Yearning for peace, love in bloom, and the rest; Everybody thinks scorn of scoundrels. But Bumble bee brought by minstrels Is ready to spin a yarn: Yearling Yearning To sing…
Ticking clock, The doorbell rings. I made a stride, I hear a knock. A package, the mail man brings. Stamps and brown paper, And writing and string. Inside, I found a note and a feather. It read such a peculiar thing. "When you were little I would hold your hand, And tuck you into bed. I came running at your demand, Listened to whatever you said." "In the clouds, the birds are free Soaring through the endless sky. There is one last thing you can do for me, Spread your wings and learn to fly." A final attempt to throw me a rope, So her child can have a life that's complete. She said I was her only hope, To have faith in something that's concrete.
I. Creation Before the troubles of the world infect the soul The magic of imagination creates a womb Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests, Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where You are always the victor in battle, the one Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives Wind down vast forest covered country sides Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy Humming sound only they can make. Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire Bring you to this happy place, a place desired. II. A Home all Your Own In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows And days lost in the gyre of solstices we Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises Lost to the antiquity of children trapped Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with Poison seep into the wells of being, melting The oil from the canvas' that dreams are painted on. Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical Demons like iron maidens brandishing your Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating An eerie starry night To you alone In a home all your own. III. Repent to your inner child To regain a solid footing on the gun deck Of the warship you're riding in the flotsam, Hearken lessons from the playground, The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned Ensure the necessary skills are acquired To embark on adventures of the body. Hiding in shrouds like an angel White egret with horsehair-like crests and Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper And love unabated from years unvisited. Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can't breach A flying draft when joy carries her burden Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor In a child's heart when the dream fades And the soul returns among the shades.
My Madness, Me... Confined by this straight-jacket, strapped in, numb and dumbed, a washed-out, has-been, also-ran, body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind, rattling like stones in an old tin-can. Still, I am, I am, and I am unchained, my dreams taking flight, soaring, above these claustrophobic walls, of synapses, and dungeons of stone, swooping through green valleys, taking a detour to savour the joys, soaked in torrential, evergreen memories, of a younger man, with passion in his bone. I am. My wings unclipped, unshackled, free, I am, and though I am unable to see, I am. At long last, me...
scarred tissue i don't miss you i don't wish you were the better of me i don't care much for surveillance but it tempts me to burn out inside everybody's lying scarred tissue i really miss you i really wish you had got the better of me you see, i need that bad beat sometimes 'cause everybody's fine yeah, everybody's fine that's what on my mind For even Elvis reigning in his castle sometimes lost battles, immortalized forever tell the stories of the glories of mighty Aphrodite the most beautiful sin in existence bright was her smile all while the while evil stirred grinning storm clouds castles in the sky castles in the sky made for you and I grand castles in the sky sometimes re-invent your self just for indulgence stray from the normal path for it was one of a kind but I'm already under influenced sometimes a knowledgeable bright shining star fades away into the darkness shall come back in rebirth I know it sounds tragic but that's what I heard every bird has wings wings to fly away any chosen day into my dismay a beautiful array wings to start a new inner strength attitude because I'm in stride with you on another level soon a game worth winning is the reason we play life can be desperate at times but I find its beauty truly basking in the sunlight of midday so as I wave before a wave washes me to the shore I seek every day has been worth the while for the while stays wildly embedded in uniquely threaded scarred tissue
Children of Market Gods Oh the sherbet of my youth To climb trees And run from bees To bathe in playful streams To dress up and be the prince of my dreams I was captain hook Marvelled at stories from my books Imagination my friend, my dog blue, A friend so true Everyday an adventure, the sun was mine And the snow, so special, so divine. Now I am old, and the world can count the cost The legacy of childhood which has been lost What happened to the children I see? Who have no time for childish things? But love a world where nothing is real Games of war and adverts galore No magic dragons, or slop dosh pies Just another mp3 and the must have zombie game to buy Enthralled by what the judges say on X-factor Emmerdale farm and holly oaks, such poor actors Britain's Got talent, and Made in Chelsea Can someone help me? Imagination is dead Who will lead tomorrow? All I see is sorrow For books never read For dreams that are dead For children with a dull existence A bottle of wine and East Enders their future subsistence Brain cells left on the shelf Along with the artist, the poet and Santa's little elf Lost is the childhood And we are to blame It is our shame We as parents, forgot they are children Call me a grumpy old sod But one day I will continue this conversation with God.
A kaleidoscope, a mixture of colors and light So hard to describe so hard to write Just like a life just like mine Here is mine my time to shine The colors change just like time A life goes on to hit its prime No matter what it keeps on changing Just like life keeps on arranging My story begins at age six When life was suddenly no easy fix The Kaleidoscope began to turn And its center began to churn My father left our family home He left alone to go and roam Suddenly the Kaleidoscope went dark Even now it's left its mark It remained unturned for about two years And the movement became quite severe My Mother moved away from home To improve her new teaching career The shades of blue came into play As most of my family had passed away My mother was strong and held my hand Even though nothing had gone as planned My family will always be in my heart Those small blue beads will play their part At that time I was almost nine I pretended that I was just fine The colors changed from blue to red I went on with almost no dread At age eleven I moved once more I moved again to the California core I spent the next year in shades of green All the kids were just too mean I went to Junior and then Senior High Then it was time to say goodbye The Kaleidoscope turned and made a painting My life became very entertaining That's when I met you for the first time My hope and happiness began to climb But My Father turned my Kaleidoscope for me And I asked and cried my pitiful plea On the weekends the kaleidoscope turns black With nothing there to change it back There are ups and downs, lights and darks With many blond moments and smart remarks My life will always be turning fast Even so I have time to look back at my past If I remember one thing it is that My life was nothing like combat But I still fought wars of my own Without them my world would still be unknown There is nothing quite like a kaleidoscope It's a symbol of change and hope I like to think my life is like this So look back and reminisce Look back at your thoughts and dreams But remember nothing is as it seems The Kaleidoscope will turn to show your past What was boring and what was a blast Mine shows everything you've done for me You showed me how fun life can be You made my life what it is now To this day I still wonder how Thank you for turning my Kaleidoscope And giving me strength and the power to cope You made my life a beautiful rainbow You deserve more than you will ever know
The world is a perplexing place So much beauty and so much evil all tied into one I started having fun when I was way too young I've walked down both sides of the tracks The adrenaline rush was like smoking crack Being naive and carefree I thought I was living the ideal life By the time I was fifteen I had experienced it all Sometimes I managed to pull myself up However temptation was too great, despite knowing the toll I felt like I had lost my soul I didn't realize I was just being used and abused I used to think I was being cool, but now I realize I was surrounded by a bunch of dumb ass fools People I thought were my friends all did me wrong in the end I put my trust into the wrong hands and then one day reality struck I found myself stuck I learned the hard way I literally found myself fighting for my life and ended up being taught the strength The strength I had within myself all of these days I refuse to live in fear That's when I decided to change my ways I was forced to grow up way to young My life had been like one disastrous play I took back control in every plausible way I could no longer kick and scream For I was done living in this catastrophic dream It was my fight to fight and it was all up to me There are no magic pills, no quick fixes Only I could choose to remain a victim I get upset if anyone takes pity, even though a few years were extremely gritty I found my inner strength on my own, even when the stress makes me feel like I am about to drown Like a erasing the scarlet letter I shall no longer where that frown I chose to let myself be free Knowing I am the only one who holds the key The key to unlock and release myself from the pain Now everyday is like a surprise I see the world through a fresh pair of eyes I take advantage of that as much as I can I try to look for the beauty and pureness everywhere I turn I would not let myself be tainted from the past Life passes by so fast Forget the scary things I have done, for in a moment you can be gone Take that leap of faith and wear a smile upon your face
Some times they say the great and mighty do fall… And the penguin story of greatness, should be heard by all. Polar bears are mighty and cunning with massive brute strength. But they messed with the penguins, a mistake, I do think. The polar bears went after the penguins and cute little chicks. So you'll never guess what those cute little penguins did. Using the most courageous penguins as a target so nice. They lured all the polar bears, for the first time, out onto the ice. The greedy bears moved out in force for the kill. But the penguins pushed the ice flows into the currents windmill. So intent on dinner and full of themselves, were they that day… That the polar bears didn't notice the ice caught in the currents sway. The polar bears were way out to sea, before noticing their plight. And, by then, the penguins were safely at home tucked in for the night. You might say, the current was a friend to the penguins that day. For it eventually sent those polar bears to the North Pole far away. Now the moral of this story is here to easily understand. Brute strength is not the greatest thing to cherish; it is far greater to plan… And, never turn your back on a penguin I say. They're the reason there's no polar bears at the South Pole, to this day. Tell Me A Story Contest
The Sound of Distant Ankle Bells Memories of those delicate tinkling bells, casually fastened around calloused feet, take hold of my waking moments, and fling my thoughts back to a distant time, where folk-songs were heartily sung, joyful, yet hopelessly out of rhyme. I barely saw her, a construction labourer perhaps, hauling bricks, cement, anything, on a scorching Delhi day, while in the semi-shade of a Gulmohar tree, her infant silently lay. A cacophony of thoughts such as these swirl around, yanking me away from the now, to my cow-dung littered childhood playground. Now, a lifetime of displacement has hushed the jangling chorus of the past, to a faint trickle of sounds, as distant as an ocean heard inside tiny sea-shells, and, I know, that the orchestral nostalgic crescendo, rises, dips, and swells, as tantalisingly near, yet a world of time away, as were the tinkling of her ankle-bells.
SHE RAN AWAY WITH THE CIRCUS The neighbor's daughter ran away Gwen is gone .....her brothers say When the circus left the town She was nowhere to be found I heard them whisper –all the biddies While they tended little kiddies… …..With the circus..... Did you know it? How that mousey girl could blow it! Throw away her farm girl life Plans to be a farm boy's wife . Who would want to see a city Drink excitement with the witty-- Who would want to fly the coop Jump the jump and hop the hoop? Oh-- those biddies dream their nights Of Gwen-stolen guy in tights How he grabs that sly trapeze Sails the tent with cat-stealth ease. Me--I wish that girl the best Hope she's happy and the rest Wish I had the guts to run Find out what is west of sun But I'd rather read about it Let the others scream and shout it When I think about her daring I envy her for not despairing May her dearest prayers come true And her skies flash starlight blue Hope the circus shapes her life Wilder than a cardboard wife. Victoria Anderson-Throop 09/13/2012
There are no words powerful enough to say The sorrow and regret she feels everyday No excuse great enough to heal All the pain and shame she feels She rises with memories at the break of day On bended knee for them each night she prays That wherever they may be today That her love would comfort them in some way On her mind and heart they will forever stay Through her soul they were born From her life they were torn Lay
Only seven years old living in a new place No one at home just have to come in all alone Eat all alone no one here Only seven years old but have to get homework Because the teacher willl be angry Punishment is to stay in at recess Only seven years old home so cold Can't build a fire because no one there Sad but don't know how to express the pain Only seven years old worried will anyone come home Pain of loneliness penetrates the walls and the heart.. Only seven years old too much for a child so young Only seven years old Empty, lonely, desolate at only seven years old
I was named after my grandfather on maternal side. Cecil is my name, though at first I hated it so. Teased I was, when I was younger, you need to know. A cartoon there was, Beanie and Cecil show, I confide. Few may remember though many will never forget. Cecil was a sea sick sea serpent, which swam so fast. Always helping Beanie, get out of trouble till the last, "Help me Cecil" would be his cry, on every television set. Cecil has always been a misleading name, to many who heard. Thinking they did, I was a female, then surprised next. This never hurt me, even happens, when they read my text. Even now, when some read this verse, may say, "oh my word", Cecil also supposed to mean, "Blind" not sure of this meaning. There is not much more to say, about my first name you see. Though now that I am older, I do not dislike it, I am just me. When people make fun of my name, I don't find it demeaning. I am even really proud of it, since there are not many with my name. Though I have run into one or two, in many different places, I even find it fun, to see expressions, on some of their faces. They seem happy, as I am to hear, another person called the same written for Sponsor Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S. Contest Name "WHAT'S IN A NAME?"
If I could talk to God today Humble praise and thanks I would give For all the blessings I have received None of which do I deserve For any good I may have done Was by grace through His son If I could talk to God today, I would ask Lord, when I was a little child Why was I so painfully shy? Whenever strangers were around I would always run and hide Reading and daydreaming all the while If I could talk to God today, I would ask Lord why does evil continue to exist? I was only seven, abused and blindly robbed I was lucky, my life not brutally snuffed! To perverts this is just a game So many die while others bear lingering shame If I could talk to God today, I would ask Forgiveness for the foolish years Opportunities missed to do some good For the many times I put Him last For unnecessary fears and wasted tears The empty years spent 'living it up' If I could talk to God today, I would ask For mercy not just for me For children like me whose trust betrayed For all of us who have lost the way Some day I know there will be peace on earth When you come to live in hearts and homes Note: For Walayee Whitlock' s "My Darkest Childhood Memories" Contest
You are my inner monster, always there you are a part of me I cannot change that. You re the voice inside my head that only I can hear, and spend countless hours trying to keep quiet. I can hear your words they echo in my mind taking me back to earlier times I try to forget move past but you are always there taunting me belittling me cursing me The years have gone by the distance grows wider and even now I can hear you . to deny you is to, is to deny me Why some ask … because you are my father my inner monster.
My mom is a rosebush lovely and red but if you are careless you'll wind up quite dead. My dad is a slide rule useful and endearing whose entire career has been engineering. My bro is a penguin laid-back and cool who hangs out with buddies his size up at school. I am a journal tucked out of sight listening, watching more chapters to write. We are four corners of a square connected by thin lines inside the same lair.
A latchkey kid was I, A fact I cannot deny. My mom started working, Which caused some tear-jerking, As I kissed my freedom good-bye. I was the eldest of three, So responsibility fell upon me, To make sure chores were done, And supper begun, While my siblings reported to me. Mom knew I could be counted upon, To keep an eye on things while she was gone. But at times I resented, My time with friends prevented, Since I was the oldest one. Looking back I truly can say, I have no regrets to this day. Growing up as I did, May have been rough as a kid, But it made me who I am today.
This is the story of 'the twitch'. We have all had it: That bit of movement before we sleep. We have been awakened by it when we were younger. . . it threw our arm out to catch us before we fell out of bed. It was even younger than that for us. It was sometimes confused with a kick -- from our mothers' tummies to the swaddle of blanket. As we grew, the arm no longer flew. . . and thus. . . 'the twitch'. It is thought that we started with a parting of the energy that mathematicians make Einsteins of, or, sounds of the aria that Mozart'd into our echoes of the day -- a marriage of concept and conceptual. It took us through the outreach of awkward doubt. . . brought us 'round the curve of nerve for monkey bars toward the first dance; drew blood in our mouths before we got the first punch – given/taken. The part of 'the twitch' that is worthy of noting now is that it has never wanted to be caught: It wanted more than nothing to be left alone – perhaps; conceived that it would be an occasion for cause. . . effect – the drive our parents tried to delay with Dr. Seuss and Disney books. A teenage indifference took us away from it. We all fall asleep. . . as we've always done. The story of 'the twitch' begins at the thumb; carries on. . . for the course of fingers it touched. Brings us a little closer to the edge of our beds.
The content of this poem is semi-graphic, so please be aware of that before you read....... Yes, There Really Are Monsters Growing up as a child, I never wanted to sleep alone. Fearful of the isolated darkness and mostly the unknown. "Mommy is there monsters?" a question I would commonly ask. "Only on Halloween my dear, the ones we see in masks" Still not satisfied with her answer, I questioned her more. Asking her the same old thing as I did the night before. Frustrated and exhausted, she took me by my little hand. Looking under my bed, in my closet; even the night-stand. "So see my daughter the monsters are only in your head." "It's time to get some sleep Stacy Lynn, now do as I have said." Respecting mommy's wishes; my little body trembling with fear. Wishing the hour was morning, praying for "him" not to appear. But as darkness faded, an uncomfortable silence fell about. I could hear the monster stirring, preparing to come out. Hoping the noises I heard, were my brothers fooling around. Pulling covers tightly over my head; praying not to be found. Footsteps getting closer, the monster is at the foot of my bed. I hear his heavy breathing; this is not at all what mommy said. Quietly lifting covers back, he lays down in the bed beside me. Touching, groping and mauling; covering my eyes so I can't see. He took away my childhood and my trust and self-esteem. A pleading child without a voice, invisible as it would seem. "So yes my daughter there are monsters, everywhere we look." Stating as I remembered my childhood and everything he took.
it's illegal now to be a kid no matter what, once, was did no longer allowed, they now forbid put a sock in it, slam down the lid there was a time, that many know when it wasn't so and kids romped wildly, to and fro from yard to wood to overflow across the day, squealing joy the privilege of the hoi polloi no silvered girls or golden boys everyone was the real McCoy and played innocent because they were devious played plans did not occur because life was all a sharpened blur of play day friends in all grandeur now, many lament of days gone by when innocence was a feast whereby kids grew flying clear-blue sky to adults who can't see eye to eye in fact those times - they still are no adieu uttered - no au revoir no quench of light from brightened star childhood's about being a kid, so far so kids are kids the whole world over L.A. to Bahrain to country farms all over they can see a day, fresh with sweet clover to roll in, an' play on, an' lose their composure kids don't have to remember that life's fun they naturally want to summersault and run it's been that way since time had begun and will always be, 'til all time, is all done © Goode Guy 2013-04-15
I want to walk into the Hotel Cipriani in Venice Cigarette holder dangling Two sleek greyhounds on Leashes, grey cape over My shoulders, movie starlet On my arm, tons of baggage Stickers, everywhere famous A postage stamp collection Is this some macho desire? Maybe a curiously held goal? I now have the insight Identification, an answer Years puzzling, wondering why Knowledge of a vision I cling to, hold so dear A Hollywood creation Two faced Janus, illusions Delusions, painted reality Of heart's hope, bright eyed Unclaimed orphan With a raw heart.
There is a glare of stray sunlight daring to reverberate through spiderwebbed glass I haven't found energy to fix in the span of four years. It is too much of a mirror, too tangible a thought, to make new. It's lithe fingers, thin and bony, and mockingly bright, steal over embossed cardstock that arrives, like clockwork, in deepest sympathy. And a thornless bouquet of pastels laden with Babies Breath only draws on blood long lost; nobody seems to comprehend such an allegory, or lack there of, so it can't be carried over the steps. "Bloodless On Mother's Day" Jenna-Nichole Conrad Wordsmith
Casey Anthony-- found not guilty, yet her child is lost forever
Inhale the impossibilities, framing faces with Boston smog and Alston fumes freezing on eyelashes you swore you have seen before on some train through downtown Hell, a crust-dripping slice of allyway propped up with rusting mortar; or probably both. And all the City's strangers are trackmarks pocking the veins of One Ways and Do Not Enters, each as you are. Listen to that rush of wind screaming up through sidewalk grates of what will never be, because you won't be seeing any stars. "City Limits" Jenna-Nichole Conrad Wordsmith
Loneliness is a powerful thing... It always hurts your feelings When somebody tells you wrongs About your beliefs... When someone stabs you verbally And emotionally scarring you for years. All those fears, turn into fear of Being true and strong-willed for yourself... Other people may never remember your pain, And pretend it was nothing like they took it in vain. Loneliness kills you when you see What others might have and you ask "Why can't that be me?"... Guiltiness of envy causes even more loneliness, The kind of feeling that tells What kind of spells negative thoughts put on you... Forcing you to believe That what if everyone hates you. Feeling hurt and corrupted after hearing others... Saying you're bad to others, Making you think "They don't understand anything..." Feeling ignored and bored When you start to feel left out, You start to doubt about the friends you have. (Any kind of) Loneliness is a powerful thing...
Yesterday, I thought I seen the back of your head, I felt my mind shook as I started to dread, That you were there, But then I realized, It wasn't you. As I left the airport, I got into a truck, that was just like yours, Then all my emotional sores started hurting again. And later on, after seeing, That the friend I wanted to have all to myself in high school, Already had someone to be best friends with, I held back my tears, And fear that maybe I'll never recover From these emotional issues that seem to go on forever. And I feel like I can't keep myself together... Especially when I see two siblings who love one another, Wishing my siblings were close to my age, Then I wouldn't have ever felt like I was in a lonely cage, Envying those who get to have a younger sibling jump into their arms, Whenever I see them at school... She always felt like a little sister for me, I want to protect her, But nowadays, I don't like the way she is some times, And I feel confused, and lonelier when I see that she Likes her other friends more than me. Yet again, more envy, And I feel guilty realizing it's wrong for me to be jealous In friendship... I'll make sure our friendship never ends, But I know that my loneliness will never disappear, And I will never be able to reappear, In school with her again, it hurts, Especially when I don't have someone to share the suffering Of high school work and gym. I still feel hurt and sad, everything in elementary, That made me glad will be pushed away, And I'll probably feel alone everyday... Just like the old days, when I cried at night... And my alarm clock was my nightlight... Now I need Him, to keep me safe, And be my light, Because the hurt that I often feel Is an inner fight for life!
knobby-knee'd, toes that stop bend and pick up penny, marble, rock outside chalk on concrete, begging, for me to turn around for one more try
Adoloscent confusion whirlwhind of innocence taken aback by the hindsight i have the life i lived and what i know now puberty feelings not knowing whats normal not knowing who or what is getting the best of you who to blame when you come unglued sexual addictions finaly clear i miss myself who i used to love dear the one i didnt want transformed into what i understood as an adult unhealthy, abusive, mean, something to fear that moment many caught in stuck in psychological psuedo science of your psychological music store guinea pig pure innocence turned into smut the cycle continues the need and desire to express oneself as an individual as an adult targeted the media blamed talk shown sex and diamonds even the rich in chains i might be craving my own identity of who i am going to become the confusion of a future that i might not be what i think i will be the fear of what if and that is the grudge we carry for soo long puberty and confusion nothing to do with attractions of what sexes you prefer the armslengthing of what your society is keeping underneath underneath the sex and diamonds of this sinking ship the one your on you never let on the cycle continues name calling lost friends lower self westeem searching for approval inbetween the sheets for this is adult hood this is aldultry love the sinner not the sin innocence held hostage who gets the blame you get the blame psychological grudge of sex and diamonds kings and queens under your thumb wont be long til the blind lead the blind and were onto something else craving approval the feeling within needing to be identified known as me i am not able to leave myself and i wont i will stand strong through this war of psychological anarchy til i set myself free i may not know the future of the adult i may become or the truth of everything in this world the knowledge of how many people on this boat licking their wounds by rubbing it in the same salts and hurting eachother equals nothing solved sex and diamonds of the media target of puberty babysitter of the media that never grew up to transform into the prince from the frog so back into the pond back into the pond psychological grudge of the masses we all victoms of sexual addicts craving to suppress our individuality cigarettes and drug abuse when all i wanted was to be me psychological grudge of sex and diamonds consumer of denying how unbelievable i be
I know....there are places I speak and areas I listen and I found the reasons behind the colors of Sarah's hair. I could fly, I used to run so fast down staircases that were carefully carpeted with the shades of blue my mother found.... ....beautiful.... that my toes would lift and my arms would capture the breath of words that would never speak themselves, the magical exhalations of things one should never say.... I'm terribly careful, darling, to never skip over the numbers, to never discuss why...... I know......the end result of speaking when my mouth is never noticed, I am well aware of how light pink lip gloss accentuates words and I feel you when my promises tumble, head over feet, head over feet.... down.... carpeted stairs. Who was he? The questions appear to me in dreams and the answers write themselves across walls I hadn't read since I was eighteen but I have the photographs, you know.... I have full color pictures that document the changing of eyes and the fading of youth, I keep them in boxes and in files I should have never cropped, despite my knowledge behind the years.... I have tumbled through.... my hair never tickled my heels in ways that girls who turn themselves upside down do, I am backwards.... you see, I have broken the hands of digital clocks and watched them through mirrors as time deceives those who never figure out reflections...... but I told them, I taught him how to read the letters that never appeared on the closet wall in the room that was above twelve carpeted stairs.
In front of newly glowing fire__the warmth Fills the area in very front Family draws close_warm against cold Time today flew as trees were cut (down) Cut just to the perfect length to burn On the open fire of night's desire These hours of story telling__laughter Make up for labor of timber felling Time spent at the well drawing water Here now time for discussions Story-telling, laughter, memories The fire softly lighting Mother's eyes
SEA TO SHINNING SEA, ...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time is...so close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately, deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas... ...this is so intimate of dreams, dreaming reality, as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore, sparkles, destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes, upon the waters, ...gazing ...seeing tranquility upon the waves... watching to the depth of a dream, and a sun-rise being so true... for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn... Sea to shinning Sea. mb(2011)
Born a wee bit 'early' like a crocus covered in the snow of March and unwelcome stranger am I to a clue less world, child of the Jew. A wee bit early for proprieties sake yet, Mother never admitted such to her dying breath. Bit 'early' the Mainiac's would say "ayah?" like a daffodil in a soft, wet, ripe spot of humus in the sun. A bud of brightness, but, out of place. Crocus croaking beneath the weight of prejudice a hybrid combine of drink and mind covered in the after birth of woman. In the snow's furnace Mother was born also. Child of German extract and Mayflower heir. Of March mother new little, raised at the foot of Mt. Battie and unwelcomed except by she was the stranger....... Am I not, the child of 'pickled madness', aye. To a clue less world was I born. Clue less as to the exotic mix world child as are so many now of the Jew. * New Form each line begins with words in order taken from the first verse. **See About the Poem
slither slider sluge from the quagmire to the dust we stand to face the mountain with the rage of shadows past I am anger I am pain I heard the shadows felt the rain caste the feelings out in vain listen to the words I say feel the warmth of summers day we fight again a waste of time why should it be this way slither slider sluge perhaps we leave the dust a ray of like a slight decay perhaps I see the light of day We took unto this home of ours a child of the night a child caste in shadows past his light of slivers plight His cry within the wilderness I could not turn away and yet with money speaking we could not have him stay begone the the thoughts of money I could not turn away I could hear the child heart crying I had to let him stay my heart reached out to cover him in mantels of my soul together we must shoulder then the defects of our gaols And yet we see the start of light the growth of wisdoms road as school results begin to shake the devil from the toad
In my head there's an echo of the past, Reminiscing memories of the last years, My childhood's fading, now disappears. In my heart I know nothing can last. Living through moments of these years In adolescence I am now switching gears. In my mind there's a ghost of the past. Growing into times of tomorrow's years, My future being only crying joyous tears.
Amidst the heavy rains,standing here I'm, Holding my hands together ,hoping to be fine. Walking through the streets ,repenting upon the past, thinking what to do next,and when did I smile last. Nothing seems to strike,nothing going my way, however hard i try,no use of what I say. To whom shall I show, the scars of my life, the pain of which ,increases my strife. I have reached a stage ,at which I can't turn back, to fulfill my wishes which my life lack. Now I wish sometimes,I still had been a boy, to be loved by everyone,filled every moment with joy. But time and again,reality comes back to me, and amidst heavy rains I'm again on a crying spree.
How come mothers scold? How come mothers yell? Then when they say they love you, Sometimes you just can't tell! And sometimes when they yell all day, "I hope you burn in hell!" you say. But then you have that talk, And then you feel so bad. You try to go apologize, But think that she's still mad! So you let her blow off some steam, And pray it's not as bad as it may seem. You start out by saying, "Sorry," 'Cause you're trying to be mature, But the rest of it just won't come out, And you're feeling insecure… You throw away your fears, And express the rest in tears. You know what you did, And you know that you were wrong. You've let your feelings out, You know that you've been strong. You pray she understands, Your punishment is in her hands. You regret those things you've said, You say things when you're mad. But you've made matters better now, And for this, your mom is glad. She gives you her forgiveness, And so your guilty feelings grow less. So when your mother scolds, And when she starts to yell, Just know it's 'cause she loves you, In case you just can't tell. So when you feel like you're in a ditch, Remember, "Tough love can be a – well, you get the point I'm trying to pitch!"
I never sought your money, never sought your gold all I ever asked, was for the truth to be told while time has passed, my hope has faded G-d only knows, how long I had waited Memories I have as a little boy, once happy just to play with my toy but as I grew up my mind did ponder, if truth really existed over yonder reaching adulthood I saw for myself, the lies which my soul had been fed only by the grace of G-d was I prevented, my steps to purgatory from being led Now I am older, being blessed with a family of my own left with so many questions, and still very very much alone perhaps if only I could make sense, to understand who you really are a chance to at least to be able, with hope to remove this scar And you my forebearer, although you brought me into being you gave me my strength, but my faith gave me my seeing but now your are old, and you can no longer pretend despite our relationship, gone is the ability for me to mend Those missed opportunities, now my mother is no longer only after her death, did I realize she made me stronger my internal tears how inconsolable, when this truth set in oh how much I failed to honor her while alive, this my sin "Honor thy father and thy mother", have we been commanded for no other reason or purpose, other than He has demanded no matter how much grief or anger, you feel from you they deserve avoid bringing punishment upon your soul, your anger do not preserve Lessons of a lifetime, skeletons in the closet we all do hide varying durations of time we have been pained, in whom to confide there can be no escape, for our actions will we be judged how difficult to overcome our ego, to this we can't be budged While we cannot go back, stopping those hands from turning time but we can seek to redirect ourselves, focusing toward the sublime charity starts at home, therefore it's for our own ultimate good eternal bliss really does await us, if we but only understood
Why does my soul ache this time of year hoarfrost on brown grass/icy chill in the air feeling all should be calm yet filled with tumult. Why are ghosts of Christmas' past still haunting when joy was always shattered by demon rum/angry words ripped a child's flesh/soul unaware it would haunt for decades. Is it wrong to love And hate want/shun/pull/push? Great pains and sorrow masked in childhood joy/laughter. Leave me please leave the child who is within me … Let him grow to be a man without guilt and sorrow over nothing he could control nor want to. I cry out to my maker how good he is yet … how i still am pained by anger within; is it the demon or the man, is it self-pity or imagination … Fantasy or reality children play in the distance on loan just a while/no pain should touch them or entice them the world should be alive for them to explore with no bandits awaiting them as prey. Why is it so what is my role in this world/ guide messenger? In what sense do I … change them/ to what extent will i become a part of them do they want to caress or shun Emulate or emaciate oh hear my cry great father what is my place and where does it fit? Thy will be done …
"I just shot a fiver" my friend said. "No you didn't" I replied. "It was only four". "Was so" he said. "Was not" I repeated. And so it went as two young boys stood at the waters edge, skippin stones. Time was not so precious then and hours could be lost in simple games with rules made up as you went along. You entertained yourself, limited only by the constraints of your own imagination. Some old wheels off of a cart and a few pieces of wood became a racer, hand powered of course. A piece of rope became a swing and inner tubes were prized. It was a time when you did not buy your fun. Every neighborhood had one football, and between us we had a collection of baseballs, bats, and gloves. Pick up games were commonplace, springing up spontaneously, and yes, upset the wrong kid and he would take his ball and go home. I thought of these things the other day while strolling along the shores of Crystal Lake near my home. From somewhere within the reaches of my memory, I heard a voice say "bet you can't shoot a fiver". Not one to forsake a challenge, real or imagined, I stooped and picked up a few smooth and flattened stones, and proceeded to skim them across the water. Years vanished and for just a few moments I got lost in yesterday. I'm sorry to say I did not shoot a fiver. In fact, the only thing I got was a sore arm, and, of course, the satisfaction of knowing that the kid in me was just fine. Bob Quigley October 7. 2011
She was just 8 years old With freckles on her face She was a little tom boy Playing miles from the U.S base Her name was parwana Means butterfly in afghan She was like a little princess Born in a cruel land She was with other children Just playing under the skies But they look like terrorist to a robotic drone as it flies So they all were killed With bombs falling from the skies Then Washington says on TV It's a mistake we apologize We apologize for your lost? How will that ease the pain? Of the parents not seeing Their little love ones again Her mother cries oh god Why don't you kill me instead? How can I live now? That my little butterfly is dead These are our children Not a horse or a cow Go look your self in the mirror Who are the terrorist now? The British prime minster Says the terrorist will be beat From his press conference From NUMBER 10 Downing Street The white house says There will causalities of wars While all the war mongers Are safe behind their doors Her father mourns her death Till his cant live no more So he drove a car with bombs Thru the green zone door There are good and evil And we know what evil do But when the good do the same Then who is better than who The lives of the innocent Are being taken by both sides And today there was a butterfly Who will no longer flies?
the first time the doctor said to me you're going to be a mom the first time I felt my child stir in my womb the first time I looked at her when they placed her on my stomach the first time she smiled at me and I knew it was not gas her first tooth, her first step the first time she said "Mama" her first sleep over and I called every hour to see if she wanted to come home her first pajama party and she would not allow me in the room her first crush, her first heartbreak and we talked about boys over ice cream her first menstrual cycle and I gave her that talk about the birds and the bees the time we went shopping for her first bra and she chose the one with the little pink bow on the front just like I did her first car date and I had more information on that boy than the FBI her first prom and I took so many pictures that my husband snatched the camera out of my hands the first night she was gone away to college and I cried and worried all night until she called me in the morning and told me how great everything was the first time she told me she was seriously in love and asked for my sage advice the first time I meet the young man, who I thought was taking away my baby and found out he was perfect for her the first time she told me she was getting married and she showed me the engagement ring and we both jumped up and down with glee the first time I saw her in her wedding gown and I couldn't speak over the lump in my throat the first time she told me she was pregnant and she was so scared and excited at the same time the first time she placed my granddaughter in my arms she looked at me, kissed my cheek and said "Mommy I love you and I pray that I will be as great a mom to my child as you were to me" the first time I realized that this vibrant, intelligent young woman is the essence of me, a legacy that will continue on in my grandchild the first time I said, "Thank you God, we did good".
The babble of youth grouped in gaggles like pecking geese pricked by the silence of the unabsorbed, garbed in the flesh or cloth too large or too small for their burgeoning minds. Gangly limbs akimbo intent, inward…looking outward flung like a sling-shot's stone… forward brimming with all too human DNA. Stilled… a pensive brooding deepens bonds of childish chatter break as Mother Goose clucks. Heads are stabilized by, held up by white-knuckled fists, free-hands continually rove the groomed while grooming furrowed brows knit scattered kernels of thought. The soft-shelled few gaze glazed, dazed contemplate the ground unfulfilled ponds of thought mine the mirrored depth the hooded eyes of the limb-crossed capping a fountain of chi…
the child inside revealed through cascading recollecting regrets unspoken break free boundlessly the child inside hindered responsibility weigh heavily elation manifestation refuted deniability the child inside yearning determined to depart dependability exchanging impulsive playful irrationality the child inside locked away penal complexes restricting flee to autonomy- mischievous creativity
Everyone is a child's child. Everyone is grown some little, some hardly at all. Everyone is one until they are none, no more.
Oh Yeah! I know I am wrong, Oh yeah! You won't come along. I know I never followed rules, My beauty & mind are only jewels. Oh Yeah! I've been hated for my attitude, I know, my life will be lonely song. I know you love me, I know I love you. But you will not come along. Oh yeah! I know baby I know I am wrong!!
Admit it, innocence-- You don't much like my self-revelatory meanderings, or my opaque references to the grist. Not everyone is near-sighted these day, making excuses as they go. There is the sound of rain on a tin roof, the smell of hay in the loft. These are not the best of times. These are times of wanting more than life can give a teenage child. Saturdays, we all wait for the mail while enduring a prison of our making. Surely there is mail with answers to life's enigmas. Surely something is pounding on the lane. Come out, my fair companion, loneliness. Let us make chili, hot and spicy. It will feed the restless wanderer, who wanders in spirit when the body is contained. Out in the sun sprinkled morning we go waging, chasing like a dog, saying Fetch me! Fetch me! But unlike a dog, we do not submit to fences. More like a lion in the winter, the child roams the woodland.
touched your name tapped a keypad and frog-like-lilly-leaps found me fly-like with accuracy after so strong a bound
Part I: I stand here looking out across the land; So vast and yet is covered by one hand. I turn my head and gaze up at the sky, Through endless heights that spiral up as I Turn round and hear them coming from afar, But never knowing what and if they are The ones who, from the web of time, were spun As I see that my journey has begun. Part II: I stand upon a mighty post up high And look upon the world below. Across this world I cast a critical eye And ponder all that you don't know. They all are sanctimonious as they Preach things of which they never thought. They teach it all but they have lost their way; Within their dreams they have been caught. Stop wasting time and turn your thoughts instead Towards the thing we know for sure; Awaken blinded minds within your head And you are wiser than before. Part III: I have emerged from in this life To see the light of darkened skies. I leave behind both love and strife And whisper all my last goodbyes. I spit into the eyes of those Who have helped me to realise The things in life that no one knows, When all we see and hear are lies. You look at me but who looks back Behind dead eyes; forever closed? Your mind is still under attack; All happens just as I supposed… From when I realised the truth: Ongoing death is greater than The disillusioned dreams of youth; All left is just one empty man.
Manitou slides Doppelgänger silhouette Ballet prides Twisted contorted pirouette Pierrot dolls glare twingingly Stare wistfully from shaded mottled space Ventriloquist disgusting tricks From two deceitful Face The magicians hook Stare garishly Whilst he wilfully reels in Audience of ooh faced crowds Doused in doubt, at just whats Happening A rocking horse It squeaks the boards With no child on its Back And forth to kiddie Hell Wooden teeth, a glare, a smile, a crack Puppets is as puppets does Whilst someone cuts the string A slumped doll, hair shorn Skipping rope to swing The troll which lay beneath the bed Fumbling hands to grab small feet Spiders who crawl purposely To join beneath the sheets But worst of all Most worst of all, the dreaded curtain smiles Which changed within a gentle breeze to something thats Most vile
Training in a classical sense means looking at life through an infinite hallway lined with the statuesque but long not remembered at least for vision or presence but more likely only legend whether by grace or by downfall A hallway endlessly in need of revolution yet never conscious that the movement burgeons from within and underneath and often in the least moral of places or attitudes This tutelage regarded as a ticket to opine using tradition blindly as a substitute for enlightenment and with little hope of rotation For the religious mind-space craves its settled location and scorns interruption of the foolishly transcendent Therefore to bed with the schooling whose origin of mass itself beckons questioning for the philosopher though no original retort is to be found from the body that answers less than completely
Every day in school They would pick on him And threaten to kill his mom If he reported them The constant abuse And the physical attacks For months he took it And the teachers all turn their backs The shame and humiliation His peace of mind and sanity is gone The hurt in his heart While the girl he likes helplessly looks on The frustrations of the parents Seeing their only child health decline And the teachers who turn a blind eye Telling them everything in school is fine The attempt of suicide one night When the father saw him with knife Asking if he will go to heaven or hell If he takes his own life The tear of the kidney For the force of the kicks and blows The lost of appetite and weight The suffering only he alone knows But he did open his mind he said I can't got through another year like this And when they were arrested then many Told the press what they had witness Today he is trying to get back his life But his road is pave with bad memories And sometimes he almost reaches the end And then get scared of the shadows of the trees Then he is right back where he started And then he has to start again with frustration Sometime lashing out at his parents and family Trying to get some much need attention Looking at him very quite sitting alone Wondering what's going on in his poor mind And wishing to that one day god will Bring him the peace he so much wants to find He is a fighter and his will are very strong Yes today he is along way from there And I know that eventuality the time will come His smile will return that has now disappear The war must be over for now But every day he has a battle to face But in the end he will be victorious And get back his life that has been misplace So many kids has and are being bulled And some are talking their own lives For when you feel all hope is gone Then it's very hard to survive They are sick and tired of the abuse, and they little minds fought so hard, so very long, And was just couldn't make it through the pain, and stayed strong. I wish all students will look after the weak The ones who are very quite and shy And if the teachers and students do this Then so many of our children will not have to die
Cicadas' songs in still heat evoke the ghosts of childhood Bring to birth nostalgic thoughts times far removed A simpler life child's eye view all mysteries accepted Each day a calm perfection Which grew into itself, then vanished into its nightfall The self I then was wandered, stumbling towards adulthood And even now still haunts me when cicadas sing and children laugh Somewhere in the hazy heat Somewhere in the white distance
The sun rises and the sun sets a new day comes, yesterday forgets a loving kiss and warm embrace two souls joined, face to face Time passes, feelings change no longer exits, this warm exchange further on, and still growing more apart forgetting all that love, they had from the start Now although they consider to divorce thoughts of their children cause them remorse so they make decisions attempting to find a way to limit any pain, that their children will be okay Despite their good intentions, they think they know but only their children feel the pain that will flow that day finally arrives, the one you were told it could never happen, it would never unfold The stark and painful reality, some adults never see they give up too easily, and for what, just to let egos be if they only had the wisdom to open their hearts and be free to learn this meaning called compromise, and make their love agree Yes, my friend, you're thinking how you relate to the words of this poem deep down your know you too are a survivor, and that time has shown you grew up with that pain, asking yourself what purpose was it all for the answer is clear, do not let it happen to your own as it did to you before
Guide the guiro biro silo. Guide the guiro biro silo. Guide Maguire birr still. Expatriate pigeons, scurried to an' fro, sailing o'er the roof wrought iron, of Madden's ale tailed abode. Time's new doormen, tobacconist ivy. Avian proprietors of little repute, adumbrate the rustic welds of cinematic accountancy; counterfeit justice, castrated against the wail. Five foot four or forty-five pence, two for a tanner, compositional sectarianism. «L'auteur est un idiot prétentieux, qui est trop content dans l'écriture prose compliquée!»
Where are you hiding? Innocent little boy Gone? Never had a home? Floating wraith of memory Are we really related? We should become friends You need a connection Some way out of childhood Why haven't I seen your need Given you jelly bread and hope.
Your hair. Your eyes. Your last name. What else did I get of yours father? Your temper? No that's mothers, it's obvious. Your love of music? We'll never know. Your love of motorcycles? Well I'm not quite there yet. Your hate of caring for small children? Yes, yes I got that father. Did it hurt you to say "give it up"? Because it hurt me to know I would do exactly the same. Am I like you father? Why yes, yes I am.
That still fresh old photograph of you astride a spotted pony, bare feet dangling as limply as your torn dress: the background was a high veranda, cool green trimmed with gingerbread. A small boy sat the animal with you -- two solemn and handsome children upon a well-fed pony, photographed by an itinerant in the thirties -- the time frozen as long as the picture or our fading memories of it may last. The boy, our brother, did little in his forty years; but now, we see his boy's eyes, soft, liquid, serious, sad, no hint of smile about them; we weep his loss. And you, sister: alert, protective, girl's face set to fend off the world -- cast so early in your role as the family glue holding us all together.
Drowning myself in contemplation I began to drift into meditation Sincerity Trust Hope Elation Was my upbringing bound to permutations? Laughter fills my thoughts, Children play hop-scotch across an eighties playground, Full of wonderment are our childhood memories; I still see the steam rising from the man holes of New York Clutching at my mothers arm waiting for the train How about the lush beach of Tobago My skin burning from endless exploration of the great blue Then we grow up….. Experiencing change and then more…. Change Start thinking from a higher angle, Separating innocence from rationality We consider true light, but too early for that! Playing starts to get reckless When you are eighteen and living away Far too special to sleep Definitely too cynical to speak I own the world Before the first heartbreak tears our insides apart Just like those intoxicants I had last night Letters of failure flutter through the door Time to go home they read in invisible ink Denial comes to an end Pick up the phone "Hey Mum, Dad…thought you could help me out…"
Weeping Willow tree, wave gently over me, hide me from the breeze. I wish to serve cake, peppermint tea, Delighted you munch so happily no other place, I would rather be.. then sheltered in wispy custody.
He asks me all the time Mom why did you leave dad behind I told him it was never the plan but, you dad is not ready to be a real man Like attend doctor's appointment or take you to the park Or a trip to the beach to play in the sand Or make trips in your room to turn on the night light because your scared of the dark On Christmas and birthdays no cards or no toys But the worst part of it all you never even call and when you do your a lying fool Making promises that you know you will break How much more do you think we can take So I'm ending this now for my son's sake Your a dad in the past and your lies were a blast
My small pristine flower, crushed while yet a bud. My young innocence stripped, left trampled in mud. Walk away. Collect your cash, no emotion for me. Little body bruised, torn with blood. Drugged blind, you do not see. Daddy, why did you do it and why don't you care? You helped them shred me, then turned away and left me bare. I am only a small child. I am too weak to fight back. Tied to a dens table, men's eyes, hands grope, and lips smack. Manhood against young maiden, tiny body burned by the rope. This, a grand hellish party with drink and much dope. Why do you abuse me, and just what have I done? You began this cruel nightmare when I was but one. Four years spread like thin butter, passed like a hat. Left to fend for myself, a small, hungry, dirty stray cat. For the rest of my life, I am damaged because of your sin. Thirty one now, still, life is a night terror in which there are men! Summer Gratias
There was a king adorned with jewels, Young and handsome, an age of merely thirteen; He walked the garden yards And singled out red rose's blooms, Not the yellow, pink or white, Only red roses, and only the blooms; He played with trick kites, flying helicopters, and Wooden blocks—building castles, islands, and towers in the sky; He rode his bike, steering the wheels, staying in the boundaries, Every day, up and down, up and down the pebbled paths And slightly rolling hills; Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock, But for him—he kept no time; Sitting quiet, sitting still, he reads his verse, One line, the next line, one line at a time, And with the final word read, he wonders a great deal— About being born, about how to live, And death that comes across the times; An elegant sunset, and changing of the light, He runs across the lawn for his telescope, And maybe, just maybe, he might eat a little cantaloupe; Feet in flight, and much to his delight, A wish to greet the evening stars came true, He gazes into the nighttime sky, He does not even question as to why— Whoosh—his day did disappear, and time did fly.
Words bounce inside Calming the breeze Believing things will come And holding out for what I cant see Stories told and fables unfold Coloring the books I read Imagination struck with the Hands of time waiting to be free Birds chirp their notes of a song Floating on the clouds pillow Weeping and whistling Tears of a lonely willow
I look in the mirror and see the years gone I can look beyond the glass out the window To the yards of my childhood I can smell the flowers and feel the grass 'neath my feet. I can hear the music blasting on the radio Mama callin' me for supper. I yearn to go back to that danged town I fought to get away and never look back, I never wanted to live there again. I guess there's a piece of me There in that little town. The town is small and so are the events You're everyone's business You can get a break and can't get away You don't even have a say You go to and from and people protest And those same people will still put you to the test I yearn to go back to that danged town I fought to get away and never look back, I never wanted to live there again. I guess there's a piece of me There in that little town. I made it to the big town K.C, Got myself a husband and a son and a place to live Settled in and made a life, got a career I swear I'll never return to my best friend Comfortable where I stand, Happy where I am I yearn to go back to that danged town I fought to get away and never look back, I never wanted to live there again. I guess there's a piece of me There in that little town. Well times are hard, And people are ruthless in this cut throat time Jobs are scarce and bills run high You never know what you'll hear at night The people are small in this big town Yeah people are small in this big town I yearn to go back to that danged town I fought to get away and never look back, I never wanted to live there again. I guess there's a piece of me There in that little town. I guess the town is small Just good ol' boys and girls havin' fun Small place, small town, small world People may talk and people may watch But the biggest thing in that small town Are the people after all. I yearn to go back to that danged town I fought to get away and never look back, I never wanted to live there again. I guess there's a piece of me There in that little town. -Heather Birdwell 9/22/2009
In the art gallery where sharp-edged women stop their strides abruptly before famous paintings ... of colored squares- In discussions of a novel, where sex is not exactly sex, only a metaphor we squint eyes at eachother across wooden tables, desperate to see- In conversation, where the surety I felt for you has faded to an ache across my ribs, faint, but still not nothing- In a shape-shifting world where I am taught the shades of subtleties in the tipping-forward of a smile, skin striking skin, and red against blue, I only want to be white on white, a small child with a red hair-ribbon frantically scribbling smiles in bright yellow crayon.
I was sixteen when the finch stopped singing. The sweet melody suddenly transformed as if it was cracked like a broken bell. I couldn't hear the sweet song anymore. My father bottled my ink in dirty jars. He locked my pens in the darkest corner of the birch box cut from a tree outside. Maybe it was where the bird sang to me He told me to go outside like other boys. But I didn't seem to listen. I could still hear a finch singing.
Searching for the lost child What a mistake we made For the lost child isn't lost any more She ran away
Your name is misery here to haunt me in my dreams In my waking hours and in my sleep Nightmares and worst fears of course you can make them come true For Your Name Is Misery You are the demon That called himself a dad You are my illness, my shame, guilt and pain I cannot shake you I try to run but you always catch me I try to hide and you find me Your Name Is Misery You are the cause of my pain I used to blame myself But lately I have found I am not the one to blame I was a child Innocent and helpless when you took my dignity, my life my sanity Your Name Is Misery You have presented yourself in many forms The school counselor who tried to violate me The Father figure who molested me The strangers who forced themselves on me A gang paid to rape me A Fiance who beat me And killed the child inside me The voices that torment me Your Name Is Misery You have so many faces It would take my whole life to paint a picture of you And quite frankly I don't want to waste my time on you I just want to forget you Your Name Is Misery I wish I could get away from you Break away from your grasp Take away the control you have over me I hate being under your spell I hate the pain you constantly cause me I hate crying because of you I hate the darkness you bring with you Most of all I hate you Your Name is Misery That is no lie There is no mistake You bring havoc, drama, and chaos All the things I despise I don't want you near me I don't even want to look you in the eye Your Name is Misery I am afraid of you I can't stand you most of all I am mad at you for you have made my life a living hell But no more I am cutting you out I have never wanted you around It is high time I got rid of you It's time to stand my ground I am going to take you down I don't need you I never want to see you Get out of my life For I am not going to let you bring me down You are not welcome here Your Name Is Misery By: Jean Shular
not so long ago i raced the sun home to sleep half this day away now, with children of my own i beg this day to stay
Sometimes I sit and watch them running through the yard. I just can't stop from smiling and saying... "This aint that hard!" I would'nt trade a minute of this work that must get done. Because throughout the hardest times so often comes the fun. How can we call this "working" when we get to see the joy that spills out of each smiling face of our two girls and boy? I'm tired, sore, and cranky. This is very true... I just remind myself each day the importance of what I do. The time they're young goes by so fast. You blink and then they're grown. But if we do the best we can, we'll never be alone.
in your beginning, God gave living water; at birth, air for living
Look in the mirror...Check Crack your back....Check Laugh at yourself and pretend like your funny but really your sitting in a room all alone on a Friday night and want to curl up in a corner and weep with joy because you cant believe your 18 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 To 18! So beautiful ... Check
The Old House and the New Home ©2011 C. Brent Cloyd I've lived in houses in the country side There with my family I did abide By the dust and gravel of a country road Much pride was taken in our humble abode I've lived in houses perched on a hill Many of which are not standing still They provided shelter in their time Provoked memories that make life rhyme I've lived in a house on a city street Where the neighbors came out at night to meet I've lived in houses made of wood and stone On avenues where children could safely roam I've lived in houses of mortar and brick Where driveways were paved and the grass was thick I've enjoyed houses far better than most Where friends would come and I could serve as host But my current house seems like a foreign land Where everyone wants to lend me a hand Living in this place is not my desire Of this arrangement I easily tire The time has come for me to leave To this old house I will not cleave I no longer want a cottage here below To a fine home in heaven soon I will go. I long not for a mansion or streets of gold But just a place where I will never grow old A place where pain and sadness are never more Where happiness is found on every shore I am eager, yes ready, to move out To possess my new home with a shout! The promised home Jesus went to prepare Death please come quickly, I want to be there.
The teenaged years are the years we miss the most, When friendship was everything, without it we felt lost, The yearning to fit in by saying the right things brought us temporary happiness and sometimes grief, Yet, we always believed we would turn our awkward lives around, and change from being the class clowns, rejects or misanthropes, Our youthful days can never predict the people we will grow up to be....... Because with each year that passes our personas are still evolving slowly.
Up above the sky Sounds of Flight covers the cloud Children clap and laugh
Mrs. Fallicker a Gurnsey dairy cow chewing her gum cud, laughing moo laughs about Bobbi the first child in our class to eat paste. I walk amongst them with my eager thoughts tracing J's in dust jackets with my pinky finger eating letters, A's like dry cheerios. The gloss of library book pages thick with the musky smell of forest floor moss. This school is foreign.
tick. . . tick. . talk the time today busy a great gather of basketed flowers that might move us towards great outlawed-metered parked cars ticketing themselves and twist. . . twist your fire-hydrant wrist while the streets look the other way simple lack-luster awaits your perceptive 50's point of view but it's all the daughters that decide off which part of concrete to part with and wake up in which car to ride in
Be careful what you wish for even as a little girl When prayers are sent out they are heard With a heart of gold behind every word The answers will come to the questions you ask Even if they are from a distant past Maybe not now but in years or weeks You will end up getting what you seek Your wishes will change as you grow older Reality sets in and hearts grow colder Once you see that you have the favor of the powers that be Youll wonder if youll ever be free Of the life and dream you so desperately wanted How will you wield the responsibilty Without leaving a trail of the broken hearted?
~Turn Back Around~ Sad eyes looking up at us How can we ignore them? Walking away like they don't mean a thing Like the ones who already hurt them They are crying out for someone to notice them Love them Take care of them Lonely children of the world Being walked away from Isn't it about time we ~Turn Back Around~ The child who had to runaway just to get away From the beatings The nightly visits from a stranger in their bed The drunken rages The Terror they were raised in A parent who molests them Innocence taken Yet we don't even hear them As they cry out for help It is time to ~Turn Back Around~ Give them a chance Listen to what they have to say A home to call their own Safe from the abuse Safe from the terror A home filled with love A place to grow In comfort rather than fear Off of the streets Away from the danger That is what they are wanting All we have to do is ~Turn Back Around~ Quit ignoring those Sad eyes looking up at us Do what is right and ~Turn Back Around~ By: Jean Bonella
I am the flight of the wind you would not see t'were it not for the string you held beneath me and if the wind you think you understand lies within the grasp of your hand then next time that wind should blow with all your strength try letting go
Punish me for being who I am Its only my fault I asked to be born Just so I could ruin your life Judge me everyday at school I know I dress funny Because of me my parents are broke Because everything I do causes them strife Tell me that im ugly As you tell me nothing I don't already know I hear it everyday from the kids that play My back is used to that knife Tell me that im nothing Ill never be loved cause im a lost cause Lock me up toss me aside Ill sit alone with my fife
The young dream their dreams away at night Hoping they come true A doctor,policemen,veterinarian and other dreams are developed by the young Too naive to understand the ways of the world Determined as ever to achieve their dreams The old regret the dreams they could never accomplish They had dreams but unknowingly never came true You go from living a world full of dreams To living the reality that is life Why do we let our dreams die We were so excited as young kids At the foot step of our dreams Were we haunted by the mountain we had to climb To make our dreams come true Did we simply quit Because of society's pressure Did money deter our dreams away while we slept at night Did we let doubt creepy into our hearts Silently killing all of our dreams without realizing it Why do dreams die so quickly When we spent years of our youth Hoping that we could get an opportunity To make them come true Dream big, chase your dreams and never let them die
David He is not like the other boys The kind, gentle son, unique Athlete so gifted since an infant Older brother's envy laments if only I had half his talent … David A child so rare so timid loves to snuggle Swears he will never move away from mom and dad So special so soft so rugged Gentle to babies and yet an inner strength Loves pets, shoes, his siblings … David Is he the one after God's own heart? Who is vulnerable yet so strong? Loved by all yet so deep in his thoughts Where do you get lost my boy, where? An inner strength yet inner secret grows … David Alas, I pray my son stay special In this world of slings and arrows To know who he is, what he wants Why he wants, where he is going How he will get there … My David
and a thousand moons chased a thousand suns to that place where suns and moons wait to race again. . . when i'm not looking
She sees the pains, Which her native folk have gained. She changed from a little girl To someone who has always had the potential To change her own little personal inner world. As a child she never went through What some other children of her people Had went through themselves. She used to never knew how the roots Of all her people's issues Were and are so controversial. Blessed was she, as a very young child, For not knowing fully all the reasons why. Blessed that she is and will always be Full of feeling, and always quietly wondering "Why?", Now she is filled with new knowledge and a developing sense of wisdom Within her own individual mind. She is now what she had always Envisioned and imagined before, since her elementary days. She is ("I am...") not entirely that same little girl anymore. She is now one of the many of that particular kind. Within her imagination is a longed Wanting of finally revealing The truths she has discovered and How her people must change for the better. Throughout her whole life, which she's lived through so far, She maintains a heart filled with feelings, A mind filled with knowledge And a slight emotional immaturity as representation That her inner child self is still alive on the inside. Her inner and past child self (who was different from all the rest, But was also similar to them when at their best). Never truly knew how far she'd come in life. (As of right now and forever into the future) How she has grown and maintained herself Is how she had made that (her) inner voice in her head and Had also long ago already acknowledged her true self. She still stands in her own believing faith and faith in herself And her lack of prejudice is what makes her naive thinking Make her own days in her life far brighter than what others say As they discourage her from doing Or trying to pursue something grand and part of a divine plan. Even after times and tribulations involving doubting tremble. Blessed she is for being so whole in her own presumed thoughts, Blessed she is for logical thinking based on emotion and feelings. Blessed she will always be, for Christ himself said to a woman (who was suffering from something for more than 12 years), "Your faith is what made you whole." Now she thinks... "Grateful and blessed I am, to the point of tears of joy and sorrow of how I used to doubt. I now forever know what my life will be like beyond tomorrow."
A child was born gifted and blessed Not understood by parents, siblings, and all the rest Personality traits introverted, shy Leaning toward melancoly don't ask why Drawn to music, art, crafts and poetry Who loves to hear and tell a good story Feeling insecure, unloved, and misunderstood Fearing the worst, bottled desires to fit in if she could Wanting a chance to just use her gifts And help others not feel misfit Lives her life in her hometown Where this woman will never wear a crown
I have this secret left untold and to tell or leak it, I'm not bold. It's about me and I carry its shame, I'm too afraid to give this thing name. When I was young, a little lad small still I had a taste of poisins sweetest kill. I thought it pleasure such sin to fullfill. I'm now penitent, but given to its will. It shaped my nature and held captive my thoughts, creating imaginings that never should have ought. It grew worse as I gave in to curse that sickens me in ways I cannot verse, I wish to ask your help but than I'd have to tell . . . and that I cannot do secret silenced my yell. I cry alone and noone could ever concieve the death that empties me, until im left with breath and heartbeat, but no will to live, because my secret killed what I had to give . . .
I think about this past year... It "came and went…" I wonder that kind of life have I really spent? It almost seems like yesterday that I was a young man… "I had the world in the palm of my hand." I had many goals, ambitions and dreams. I wanted to enjoy life and do so many things. Looking back on time and how quickly it's gone by. I gaze up into the beauty of the stars in the sky. As I get older and think about another "resolution." I find myself with another problem with no "solution." I think about a God... Who made all of this a possibility! He's offered to me love, hope and tranquility! I'm going to make a new commitment this January 1st. No matter if things get better… Or things get worse… I'm going to give my life and family to God above. And ask him to bless our home with his mercy and love. I'm going to try to live for him the best way I know. And seek his blessings wherever I may go! I'm going to give to God a love and strong commitment. It's only in him where I'll find true fulfillment! There's an important fact, I shall always remember… God is with me from January thru December! He will be there to guide each step that is taken! With him in my life… I'm never alone or forsaken! By Jim Pemberton
We walk amongst the faithful. Unknown to human eyes. So normal and so human, They can't see through our disguise. The tears of angels made us As they flew down from the sky. They didn't want to do it, So all they did was cry. We're stuck amongst the ruin. The horror and despair. We've seen a bit too closely To the heart of Evil's lair. We walk amongst the faithful. Unknown to human eyes. So normal and so human, They can't see through our disguise. We're scarred up on the inside, But outside we're just fine. We hide the truth so well They can't see into our lies. Our daddies were all drinkers. And when they would get mad, They'd take it out us poor souls, And boy were we so glad When Daddy drank himself to sleep, And we could go and hide. Carve another scar into our heart Which was hidden deep inside. We walk amongst the faithful Unknown to human eyes So normal and so human They can't see through our disguise. Our mommies all liked men Perhaps a bit too much They sampled fair and far And didn't mind the touch. When Mommy fell asleep, Her boyfriends would come down And they would scare us half to death And they'd start to mess around. And after they were done Ravaging our broken souls We'd take our chance to run And hide from things we'd never know. We walk amongst the faithful Unknown to human eyes So normal and so human They can't see through our disguise. Our families are all broken We have no place to hide No place to let our tears out Let out what hurts inside. And now we sit here all alone In this dark corner as all hope Evades our longing hands We've lost our way to cope. And now we hide our feelings And what they've done to every "me". We hold our chins up high. We do not let them see. We walk amongst the faithful Unknown to human eyes So normal and so humans Can't see through our disguise We pretend it doesn't happen We can't let anyone know Our traitor of a heart Is something we can't show. Would anyone even understand What we hold inside our hearts? Or would we be a freak show A different world apart? Maybe one day we will find one Every single one of us Someone who will understand Someone we can trust.
He was a silent man. He stayed upstairs, typing unceasingly and during dinner, mumbled accusingly nothing ever finished That evening he noticed, saw his child sitting in the distance alone, he crossed the field He teased; they played, among the blades of several hills, a thousand times they rolled, vibrating He laughed; they roared Disney visions, collaborating goose-bumps; torching recollections. He taught; they practiced hundreds, of air pockets among them they flew like ravens They went home, and thereafter He was a silent man; his child unspoken.
Secrets A drop of silence. A long road into conscience. Fear is frightened. My whispers moist the mirror, I have been talking to; lips move. A sweep with my hand reveals me, at least partially; eyes, nose… The broken images look like an unborn soul with unfulfilled desire, to be born and thrive. My wishes, of reversing time and walk backwards to the root, set me alight; I see secrets being destroyed in that fire. © 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
i believe that balloons are free even tied to strings they rise above me i'm pretty sure they want the sun and ignore the clouds of everyone i might be mistaken perhaps not of wit but if there's a race to the sky i want to be part of it perhaps a balloon has nothing to lose leaving the ground behind the problem it seems when i let go the string it gets to fly. . . i have to climb
I raise my head to the heavens praying for rain washing away the tears, I shed for this world of pain I go to sleep depending on something better but to my disdain I wake up, only to discover more of the same the world's harsh reality shows itself daily only to hold me captive as I wonder what happened the life I once knew a young tike a baby boy so free, playing with toys so easily assured so easily comforted that everything would be well even when I couldn't tell I flashback, seeing the rainbows after the rain showers and I remember the growth of the grass and flowers I didn't like rain back in those days but now, rain is a sign that things can grow in time
Once in a while, a cruel, old man Had stood up in front and had bade me to stand He'd point out a sentence, instruct me to speak And my crush would let slip a small, cruel, mirthful shriek Then my sibilant esses would ring out so loud And my spittle sailed south 'cross the heads of the crowd The teacher pronounced my reading a mess And I couldn't help but feel that I was Missing something, missing something All my life I think I missed something My friends took me out to the pictures tonight Though I never was blessed with the powers of sight The score underscored each great scene with aplomb But I knew from the swells and the claps it was done In a few moments I had slunk into the night With a sense in my gut that some thing wasn't right Right before I would physically run into you I could not help but feel that I was Missing something, missing something All my life, I think I missed Something big, something vital, something unerringly true And today I think that something was you After rainfall I stepped into the sun It dried off my skin but the cold made me numb I stepped back to the porch and back into your arms With a hide dried so thick that your arrows can't harm I can carry you miles just perched on my back But my heart and my belly are safe from attack Intellectually I know that there's nothing I lack But I can't shake the feeling that I am Missing something, missing something All my life I think I missed Something big, something vital, something unerringly true But it's something I've forgotten In a sky so blue
You know a tractor is not a toy Not a play thing for a little boy But when cradled in its seat Life became for me a treat Behind its wheel I learned to drive Found happiness in being alive Released her clutch without a lurch My world had fullness from that perch But these are the tales of a day gone by I remember them sometimes with a sigh The days grow duller with the passage of time But these are the memories that make life rhyme I've gained knowledge from scholars face to face Benefited from their degrees and grace I gained wisdom on an H Farmall From an old man in bib overalls. I have traveled this country far and wide I have crossed the ocean to the other side But some of the finest things I ever saw Were on the farm, with the H, and my Papaw.
Little girl goes down to the water. Little girl climbs up the hill. Little girl wanders in the woods. Little girl collects little things. Creatures and curiosities. Puts them in her pockets. Skipping and running and playing at hunting. Now and then she stops, and rests. Her every heartbeat, her every breath, conspires with the fragrant moist air, the rocks and the trees, to forget her home. There she waits before the sunset. She waits as long as she can. Oh, how precious is this place. Her refuge. To the sea and the hills. . . Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I remember AUNT B for the way she took care of me when mother was not home but working She would take me to Boston on the Orange Line to go shopping for comic books and clothes for the upcoming School Year Then,we would go to a Burger King and have the Scramble Egg platter and Orange juice for Breakfast Walking over to the Boston Common by early afternoon,we would take a little ride on the Swan Boats and after that,take the elevator all the way up to the top of the John Hancock Building and Look down upon the Hustle and Bustle Bostonians from the view of the Observation Deck After having lunch near a busy Mass Ave Cafe,we would go on the Green Line and switch back over to the Orange that would take us out of the city and back upon our Medford suburb. Thanks AUNT B for showing me how the world runs for free
i see it before me i have not stepped towards, nor walked along its direction it is clearly there for me to do so the decision can stray left or right of the way I go and all I know is that it starts before me
When did I grow so old? When did the glow from my childhood become erased from my face to be replaced by this frown and worried furrow in my brow? When did my worries turn from homework and drama to bills, survival, and fears of suicide (these, I secretly hide)? I'm afraid to lose myself within this. But twenty years old is not ancient! These are the days of high heels, afterparties, never saying sorry, and rebellion against authority. For me, however, these are the days of feeling like I'm forty-five, barely alive, and holding up a reputation I never personally obtained. These are the days of apologizing for my values. Apologizing for my emotions, slightly-intelligent notions and beliefs. These are the days of hiding within the four walls of my room, never alone, rarely home, and wishing for a sanctuary. No family. One friend on the West Coast (whom I miss the most). A lover who thrives in my demise. When did I grow so old and began to fear that, through the veil of tears, my worthlessness would become contagious?
there's a curve at the end of every sidewalk did you know every block's measured by the lazy way a rope skips and ponytails itself down its own street? my, how my rope bends alongside that straight line six inches above what you call a 'curb' under my knees falling and rising under my feet
Visions come like never before Stumbling through my head Like that of a musical note Floating on the pillows of dreams Rivers of wishes float down the streams Washing away the times tick of a tock Embracing, laughing, dancing between Swimming in these pillows of dreams My childhoods gone How has this came to be Come and went with times spent Chasing the pillows of dreams
A sea made up of a million tears... Drowning whatever comes near The forgotten and broken soul. Bitter spirit Pushing away The ships of friendship and love With waves of rage. Erasing history And throwing those into a cage, To make them see how it feels Being in such inner pain. High tides flood the land Never has the bitter sea spirit felt so grand In destroying all those who had a hard time Trying to understand.
is it a waking dream? no, is it a waking nightmare? no, it be the thoughts of the deserted, those who have nothing left to lose, the ones who can go mute without a second thought, the ones whose dreams overflow with the blood of others, for they are the ones who see the sinister truth, the end isn't near its always been there, every year, every month, every day, every minute, every second, for you see the end is not when the world ends, it is the last day you feel complete, it is the day you feel worthless, the day you see only the dark side of things, the moment you imagine slaying the beast of which caused your pain, for that is the day the innocence known as your "inner child" is finally slaughtered, and when your become..., heartless.
My joy at its best, my hurt at its worst. My joy at your conception and my belly swelling. My hurt at your birth with waves of contractions. My joy at your first steps in those booties I knitted. My hurt as you fell down and bumped your head. My joy at your first word spoken mama. My hurt when we argued about a sleepover and you cried I hate you. My joy over your first report card with all the A's. My hurt when you were expelled from eighth grade for possession. My joy when you took responsibility young man and changed your ways. My hurt as you leaned on my shoulder and cried over losing your first love. My joy in your pride after working the summer to buy your first car. My hurt that you are no longer my little baby but a young man. I am forever a woman in motherhood, My joy at its best and my hurt at its worst. Summer Gratias
A world only meant for perfection Sophie can Hardly Breathe Have you ever thought about Imperfection's Beauty? Don't Look to the east, stay here with me We are The Sick We Are The Chosen Just to see--Just to be Imperfection's beauty
do you remember when we were so young when the fall fell down and the spring had sprung when the winter came and made us so cold when the summer flame found us playing and saying I hope we never grow old..
there is a pond where the water lillies grow and children weep for their youth, the silent forces that make the moth to pebbled thought entombed in the shifting light of its bed, and Nowhere is a feeling. Remember the morning of the bird, the obscured pane, where nature died at once, and slowly even kisses were sharp and revealed some secret like a moth-wing in a book. It is here you recall the thing everyone knows, or pretends to know.
A smile in a thought of a "forever" like this. A dream from a star's one wish. A love of a life from a fairy tale one told To a child with an imagination worth a whole pot of gold. Can you really put a value to something like this? Like that feeling you get from your last first kiss? Or the dreams that come true from a shooting star's wish? There's no value worth more than all this. A song from a night from a heart's first glance. A sway from a dress from a love's first dance. A rose from a thorn from a child's freedom. A ring from a night from a tear from one. Can you really put a value to a moment like this? To a second in time so carefree as this? To a heartbeat caused by pure peace and bliss? To a child's eye lit by a shooting star and a wish? Could you tell me what it's worth? Or could you tell me which came first? Was it hope for a future unknown, Or happiness from the love that's shown? Was it a dream from a fairy tale, Or optimism after every fail? Because the child that I've never seen Is one without a single dream. So tell me, Can you really put a value to this? To a first kiss? A child's wish? Pure bliss? To this? To this moment looking into your eyes? To a fairy tale defined By you and I.
When I was one I stared at the sun And although I lost my seeing It felt like fun When I was three I drank chlorine And although I lost my tasting It felt serene When I was five I took a dive And although I lost my smelling It felt alive When I was seven I played a violin And although I lost my hearing It felt like heaven When I was nine I took a line And although I lost my feeling .
up and down feelings floor to the ceiling big and the small or barely at all jumble of thoughts build up like a compost all of the utmost useless importance String me along for days like ever present unaware essence of the magical sun's scorching lashing out r shooting through the vacant space only one destination like a certain pinpoint revelation Stabbing back we surprise attack the only shock comes to me as an afterthought... I hold in the hatred until it becomes sacred I inhale the passion nothing more natural than my outward reaction addition through the simplest subtraction the hate is so hard to replace what is left to drive me the anger inside me I am here because of my rage brought me to the brink of breakage just when the point is revealed naked it disappears, retreating through the hatred Where is it hiding? I miss the surge burning into my every word the last I remember I was misplaced, self centered when the source was discovered a curious love entered and drove out the negative edited and erased
A boy in dark blue With blue feelings held inside Always unhappy Then one day he set his mind Looking past what others said. Written by Cecil Hickman Written for Sponsor Francine Roberts Contest Name "blue"
A keen wail through the madness pierces a thousand darkened mirrors reflects a plethora just too many eyes peering… In this repression can she awaken? Through the battered glass a staircase winds for hours Tired splintered wood Rusted nails loosening and she perceives a danger… (caution signs were never posted) Intuition whispers harshly "Do not step there" In this repression can she awaken? Curiosity has killed more than one cat… but still…she is questioning by nature Proceeding the broken stairs images burning from all sides she sees haunted faces In a moment of narcissistic sadness her heart beats out a raucous rhythm that leaves her slightly breathless Bare feet encounter splinters in her "need to know" moment Hands reach to grasp onto something and shards of glass stab her skin A gasp out loud and yet she still continues this dark quest… In this repression can she awaken? Stumbling on, through all the blackness Glaring eyes inside the glass (why the pretense of love for her?) Trembling in sheer terror She must face what stands atop Whatever monstrosity greets her there is her worst fear…. Her strongest adversary…. Whoever waits has destroyed her and abolished the flowers that once had bloomed In this repression can she awaken? Trying to be silent on tiptoes (bleeding from the wood) and hands clenched at her sides (crimson from the slashes) The tension like a thickness in the raw and dank air Tendrils of hair fall forward into her tear-filled eyes Her inner knowing cries out a panic stricken bellow In this repression can she awaken?
It has been years of terror, pain, nightmarish hell! Little girl in faded cast offs, shuffled from back room to main office. Disembodied voices, cubicles, paperwork, a drab cell. Letterhead, Department Of Children Services, an address and phone number. Eyes suspicious, blond hair ragged. Nevada midsummer. Woman, excruciatingly thin, pale, tired and sunken. Child, fearful, nervous, confused emotions drunken. Summer, its mama, please remember me. Child, through fog of lies and time. A lonely little flicker, remembrance possibly? Four years gone, milk carton child, young innocence stolen. Home lost no more, hell traded for future gossamer dreams, golden. Summer Gratias
Simmering,hot, pancakes, flushed. Battered, beating, bruised, Syrup, sweet, melted, dripping, Brown now, peeling, ripping Dark berries, smashed oozing bluish - black red, Hands and words tossed instead, Pancake Burnt! Pancake dead!
switched into the voiceless, helpless abyss Is there no one to talk to out here? can anyone here my frustration at this? I know I am "very important to us" but can we talk...like "h.e.l.l.o." "how are things going today?...want come coffee?" "how's that shoulder feeling these days?" "so tell me, what can I do for you?" beep..."to review your message press 1, if your satisfied with your message press 2, if you'd like to go back to childhood and rethink the whole thing whilst catching fireflies on some June-night field, well, just hang up, go to the pantry and find an old mayonnaise jar and a Bic pen and punch holes in the top and tear some of that sweet grass with your loamy fingers and stuff it in, then run the field casting palms to the sky in supplication, gazing at all those stars out above amazed at what a great thing it is... to be here... but I digress"... "if you'd like to re-record your message press 3..." © Goode Guy 2011-07-28
Thirteen, deemed brilliant...quite attractive, injecting her poison through the blood of countless young boys... boys...calling her home...riding by... boys...craving her time...wanting her... But beyond the intellect, she was insensitive and, at times, brutal. "Dance with me." "No way, you're ugly." "Would you like to go see a movie?" "No, you're not my type." Chased...so she ran as distraught boys with bruised hearts neither forgot nor... forgave.
Kisses felt: Moments lost. Priceless moments Always cost. Peace and love: Childhood wishes. Friends forever, Like butterfly kisses, Never last More than a day, Then they all Fade away. Dreams, like shoes, Become too small To fit our lives When potential calls. Kisses felt: Moments lost. Priceless moments Always cost. Is the price Worth the pain? Or worth the strength We eventually gain? Of course it is. Just persevere. Don't ever stop dreaming. Don't live in fear.
Many a night in all these years I think of you, moved to tears Many times made me sad because I really miss you Dad. Now I am old and realize I wish I could apologize Forever doubting my father's love, I still pray to the one up above So many years ago you died I was nineteen and never cried I detested whenever you took a drink, not once did I ever stop to think You had your own dragons to fight; they came out almost every night Dragons you could never slay, you fought them 'til your dying day Now you have finally found your peace, please know my love will never cease For now, I have kids of my own, learned to love from what you have shown
As she reaches the top stair bleeding and tattered a face is in the shadows Apprehension clenches her insides like a steel cold vise grip (Her enemy waits) In that face lays hidden all the wasted years Can she defeat them? "Step out of the shadows!" She demands in a voice fraught with tension Who would this person be who had pillaged her heart and taken her laughter? Upon moving toward the light A slant illuminates a face A gasp emits from within her Staring into eyes she had always known Looking into a face She could never hide from "Wherever you go, there you are" Through all the years of terror and all the anxious wasted space Her enemy lay within her …. She looked into her very own face! Can she now awaken?
Wake up, morning - Waking up, from the cold water; walking over it; a spider, is moving with lame laziness towards its unaware breakfast. Heat generated first clouds, the newborns, yelping, careening intoxicated by youth, are scattered here and there. The boy discovers a treasure, his father's cassette collection. Old tape-recorder whines and squeaks. Armstrong sings, "it's a beautiful world…" © 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
I don't want to talk about mum About the bonds that tie us together Like two leaden weights I don't want to hear About how I should be More this and that About how I keep breaking the mould On which you consistently reapply I don't want to listen To how your problems are mine About how I'm not good enough About how I upset you About how I'm not like you About how I let you down About how worried you are for me About how you don't see me for days, weeks I don't want to know About your emotional strings Sticky you throw at me I don't want to feel Less than I am At your expense I don't want to reapply my make up Brush my hair Wear the coat I hate And that does not fit I don't want an analysis Or to be told that you know best I don't want a hug Laden with treaties and hidden agendas I don't want an empty promise I don't want it What your offering
I don't know Which way is home, Yesterday is kept in store By memory alone, The inaudible screams The motionless violence, They bounce in the emptiness Of utter silence, Truth and happiness oscillate But are not of the same sort, I'm lost between connotations But i seem to come up short On the perceptions of reality, There's no such thing as rewind But it feels a never ending torque Fueled by vague echoes of anguish Cherished recollections That race in a loop, intertwined, Locked into the inevitable Memories fade to a blur Everything bleeds into what now is Did yesterdays mistakes occur?
Lost within the intrinsic woods by myself No desires, avarice, nor any sort of wealth Just me and my dog observing together Oh, how I wish I could stop time forever, The shady spot i sit below the tall timbers Evokes memories, recollections, whispers, Stains of anguish and worries that lay below The river of time, will wash away as it will eternally flow, The stream, which, once believed to run wild Now seems a lion become tame and mild.
Nightmares, shame, and despair--- You don't go anywhere. All alone in your mind even with someone by your side. You think, "Why can't everyone just leave me alone?" You thought the hint would be cutting off the phone. But everyone wants you to release your cares. The next thing you do is frown and ask, "Where?" Stinkin' thinkin' is what your mom calls it. Bad thoughts falling down a bottomless pit. You wake up hoping those feelings disappear; but, as usual they end up going nowhere. You can't seem to get rid of the pain and in your heart an eternal rain. No one really knows how you feel and you have friends that always ask, "What the deal?" But tomorrow always comes. Bad days for you, but good for some. Disparaging words flow in and out of your head. You're alive but you're living like you're dead! They're like cobwebs in your mind that you can't seen to bind. The hurt is always there which has always been your fear. You don't see the destruction your thoughts have created. Yet relationships were destroyed with the people you've dated. You allowed your pain to take away time. Your anger towards others has become the real crime. It all boils down to that one thing in your past. A terrible time that from your mind you've yet to cast. The pain from the physical and spiritual rape that rolled around in your head like an old videotape. The abuser was like a father to you and when it first happened there was nothing you could do. You felt trapped like you could go nowhere. His power over you was to instill that fear. The "fear" is what's wrong and you must discover another heart song. Up to this point life hasn't been the best. Maybe letting go of this is the next test. There has always been someone that has loved you. Someone who is capable of taking you through. He's a Friend that sticks closer than a brother, Jesus--- a Savior like no other! If you don't give it to Him so you can thrive you will plummet to the depths and never survive.
Sad sounds young apart From mother longing empty Joy when united
This is a poem by my 9 year old son Dylan. I am a smart kid and a techno geek I wonder how far space goes on I hear a dinosaur roar I see my dog that passed away I want to see my grandpa I am a smart kid and a techno geek I pretend to have one million dollars I feel my dad hugging me I touch my mom's brownies I worry about my parents I cry when summer's over I am a smart kid and a techno geek I understand that my dad has to be deployed I say aliens exist I dream that I'm being attacked by a sea serpent I try to make my life the best I hope my brother has a good education I am a smart kid and a techno geek.
I feel like I just left past shadows runaway Before I grow taller in more ways that my soul needs I first saw the future's mirror and sweet dreams that still feeds My wick heart on hope's table that sends me faraway... It seems to me that rock called sun is alive Bringing vibes for those poor people who always pray Without knowing that a stupid wish worth a life Who goes into a world of forgiveness and happiness, where every angel lays... My conscience is bleeding and I hear the death's crazy lyrics My life is a slide show now and my only friend is the misery When I say faith I hope to see innocence's dynasty The Christians say I need Jesus touch in my world's roots... I make mistakes like everyone, but I don't wish perfection I only need God's angel for protection and affection Sometimes I miss childhood with his naivety And regret I'm a beginner is this world full of insanity...
At the age of thirteen, life is carefree Time to become all that one can be Life stopped for you; cut off at the knees Being told very harshly about Huntington's Disease At the age of thirteen, life is carefree Ball games, skating, spelling bees Being told very harshly about Huntington's Disease The look of grief on your face and the weeping Ball games, skating, spelling bees Life stopped for you; cut off at the knees The look of grief on your face and weeping; At the age of thirteen, life is carefree
Youth to deny Wearing an illicit sign To drink from her curious eyes And ravish her tender mind Her innocence stalks her
Land where my fathers died, but was it all in vain, I'm sure the ones before me cried, When they call his name... Some still say we've come so far, But man I beg to differ, The games the same the rules have changed, Just penalties much stiffer... This house of cards they built with bars, Are built on the foundation, That if you build it they will come, To seek incarceration... So the numbered ones who lack the sum, Will forget the taste of freedom, And glamourize they they've become, All the reasons we don't need them...
If it's true, and there's another life That waits beyond our journey's end I'll hold a place within my heart And a rocking chair for my old friends To sit beside a fire at night And talk about, the stories of another time Or dream about what might have been, But either way I wouldn't change The path that led to my old friends And if there is another life I'll wait for you with open arms Beneath the moonlit sky at night I'll reminisce and count the stars Which never fails to take my breath Each moment when I think of you And know again I'll see your face That shines within the summer sun Or glows within the winter moon That's seen so many journeys end With hopes of such a special place Where friends are never left behind And faces never fade away Through time, if there's another life Old friends would come And there they'll stay And bring another rocking chair For those who pass this way Kevin D. Fix
Dash through black, Jump in the sack, Know a sandy plight. I cling to three of light, That beats back the shadows, That lie in rows, Along my wall at night. Enter me of she, Does she know my plight, Not too late, To encourage the hate, That feeds upon my fear, As the Witching hour draws near. And now alone in the black, A chill runs up my spine, The bed begins to rock, An evil under, And other noises asunder, As the shadows creep across the floor, To take from me nevermore. Now as the noises grew ever louder, And I could take no more, At twelve o'clock, There came a knock at my door. At the tolling of the bell, I rose to dwell, I faced my fear and opened the door, A dream nevermore.
I remember the day I first saw her face on the school bus such an uneasy place we both were shy it took months just to talk soon enough we would always walk from the stop to her house were I d stand uneasy the sweat would pool in my right hand One night late after school she came to my house I tried to be cool she asked if I would like to go out of course I did but I was nervous anxious filled with doubt we spent a whole summer just hanging out some times I got so nervous I wanted to shout I recall how she first placed her hand in mine I was sweating so bad I was losing my mind the touch of her fingers in my sweaty palm gave comfort unknown and a relieving calm I realize now she was just as scared but she seemed so calm ready and aware she became my very best friend but even I knew the summer would end before the fall came an took her away we spent time with each other everyday a few weeks before school started again we went to the park are spot back then she looked in my eyes for ever it seemed I was confused and young I almost screamed then she leaned towards me with the sweetest touch she said shed miss me very much and then it happen her lips searched and found mine out in that moment it removed all doubt an innocent peek between dearest of friends learning how such things have there ends after school started that year she moved away I have not seen her since that day Forever she holds a piece of my heart the innocents we shared was ours from the start even tho Ive grown a lot since then that young love is for thick and thru thin we never took not a thing from one another we held each other up learned from one another I wonder if she thinks of me I think of her and lonely nights I hope she lives happily youth is something you cannot keep I miss those days on the grass we would sleep somewhere inside the shy little boy waits for the day he might see that girl once again the soul that taught me how to love and to be loved how to end and how to begin I know ill never see her again I know its only memories something lost to the past if I would have known it would end that way and be over so quick so dam fast I would have told her more of the true me maybe then Id feel whole at last sweet first love I hope you find a life of love and find your faith in the god above she will always been in my heart and mind and for now we must leave us behind
I love how you were my first friend Right after I came into this world. I love how you and I had fun Until the end of our little childhood. I love how you were another I've met, Everything was good in those summers. I love how you were like a brother, Had often traveled to your home and we played. I love how you were my second friend, Someone who and I imagined together and communicated. I love how you would allow me to come over, And to even let me eat there for dinner. I love how you were some other pal, We enjoyed the company of each other. I love how you and I were so young, It was almost as if I were your role model. I love how you were my third friend, Truly was something wonderful we had. I love how our bond once was, Though no longer am I at all sad. I love how you were all those cousins of mine Were all young alongside me. I love how you all made me feel happy, Back in those days of my child identity. I love how you were my fourth friend Right after I reached out to yourself. I love how I knew you at first seemed as lonely, No matter how far apart, we have those memories. I love how you were both born, my siblings. Prayed for your births: to me that's how it had to be. I love how you turned to me for comfort and sleep, Will always be there to care for you. I love how you were my fifth friend, Claimed to free me from what I've fought for so long. I love how you gave me what I've sought, Such fleeting evenings: our moments captivated me. I love how you were all new people to talk to, Every conversation helped me become who I am today. I love how that no matter how I feel, I'm not alone, Forever grateful for having others to talk to. I love how you were all my other good buddies, No life should be without friendly acquaintances. I love how some of you are close to being my best friends, You're worth spending times with. I love how you, my parents and grandparents, Were there on my birthday: the sky was clear, sunshine. I love how you, my family and friends, Are all people I know and have raised me. I love how there's a number of people I've known within my lifetime. I love how there are those Who still see me as I was and always will be. I love how these people Influenced parts of my personality. I love how that no matter how I feel, All those years were real. I love how you all were there, but I feel alone now. Every day's not the same as it used to be. I love how you're also always around, But now I'm strong enough to perceive even change...
She's constantly a dreamer, Fantasy is where she lives, Reality is non existant to her, If only she could see. She only cares about superficial things, Popularity is her sport, Boyfriends are the cheerleaders, If only she could see. Her mind is put to waste, A head as empty as a flower pot, Education is lost on her, If only she could see. She makes fun of the "weirdos", She cannot stand the "geeks", But those "geeks" are worth knowing, If only she could see. The world is 3-D, It has depth underneath, There is beauty under the surface, If only she could see. Beauty is not just skin deep, It runss all the way through, It's not just looks that matter, It's how you think and see.
My void is the darkest penetration of childhood. No memory at all before age of six so fair. Thine memories might have been bad or good. Mine has no glimpses, or comparison to share. Thou shall say this may be a blessing so sweet. Though my mind has no distinct recall to meet, No shape of any kind, only fantasy for retreat. Whilst I travel onward, I am lost in defeat. My darkest childhood memory is none at all. Mystery of things I have missed or recall. I live on in the shadows that make me whole. I waver on the balance of what does console. This mind and soul with a spirit that will seek, Diligently answers for future, my past is weak. Written for Sponsor Walayee Whitlock Contest Name My Darkest Childhood Memory
I slipped into my seat without a sound A broken radio- I can't tune in No one cares to turn their head around I try to speak, but somehow can't begin I'm on a different frequency, alone Try as I might I can not make a sound A never-ending piercing dial tone Still no one ever turns their seat around I use my words to write down what could be My written self can leap and scream and bound I hold her up, so hoping they would see But no one ever turns to look around I slipped into my seat without a sound Because I know no one will turn around
Walking through life all alone, I live my life in monotone. Watching the days go by, I sit and wonder, why? What purpose do I serve? What is it to just exist? Wandering blind in a veil of mist. If the sun were to shine on me, Could I open my mind and see? Would I use my heart and soul? Would I find what hatred once stole? Young in life, my innocence lost, taken, My mind frozen with fear, trust violently shaken. Unable to shed a tear, my paranoia blatantly real. Emotions unexpressed congeal. My eyes leave nothing unguarded, The real me checked and carded. Awaiting a person who possesses the key, To open the door and kill the pain inside me. Summer Gratias
If Gods favorite hero suddenly became cold, Lonely, disoriented, unhappy with sorrows untold, Would it be of interest in Heaven? Concerns of man, Would our saviors come to Earth to be born again? God would send out his best hands to hold, Would he set backwards time to where all heroes spirits were sold. If only our love could behold Lined with twine of silver wrapped in gold Gifts to to God to wash our sin Equipped pillars stories told Thoughts about God mirrors my pen
When I'm with one of you, I just can't have one without the other. I would love to laugh and have fun together. But then I see, That maybe You two are better off without me. Because I hear That when I'm not there, You agree on most things And get along. Having fun Like as if you don't really care About anything else. I'm starting to feel That maybe you secretly hate me And lie when you say I'm great And I just don't fit to your appeal and ideals. I'm sure neither of you felt this loneliness as long as I did And I usually feel envy for friendships and siblings That I often see. You are lucky to be together...
Thankful, For Earth-Love … Life … Also Family Of … So … All The Above
Centripetal force of a whirling waterbottle, captured in it the tornado of our youth and reflecting a goofy smile. Dare you say centrifugal? Dare you graze the edge of a sharpened sword?
It comes on so fast like a torid rain These feelings of weakness and unforgiving pain To keep them at bay, what can one do Someone give me an answer, or just a clue Sit and stare, and just stay out of the way Too many questions, the familiar:are you okay? Inside, my heart continues to tear The constant reminder that nobody will care Breathe in and breathe out, it appears okay It's night time now, made it through the day Sleep comes hard, the thoughts are way too much Racing and streaming the mind seems out of touch Inside, my heart continues to tear The constant reminder that few will care Waking up for another great morning Not being able to hide, there's little warning The flood of feelings pour from within When will this end, so my life can begin A life of no pain, or just no saddness Who can help to stop the maddness Inside, my heart continues to tear Surely there's someone who'll care
A little girl was walking through a beautiful forest when she encountered an old woman who was picking flowers. "Who are you?" the little girl inquired, and she felt magnetized by the woman's powers. The old woman looked up at the little girl and said, "I am you when you are old." The little girl stepped closer to look at the old woman carefully, trying not to be too bold. "What happened to your hands? They are all spotted and wrinkled and your hair is ashen sprinkles." "Yes, from all we've touched since we were born," the old woman replied as she held out her hands for the little girl to exam with pride. "Do you see where I held my babies? Where I hugged those I loved? Where I created beautiful things to share with my family?" It was more than the little girl could imagine but she began to relax into her fantasy. The little girl smiled at the old woman and she smiled back. "You have lots of lines around your eyes and mouth" but the little girl saw that happiness was intact. "Yes, they are a road map of every experience I have ever had. Everything lost and everything gained," and the lines around the old woman's eyes deepened when she smiled at her again. "You are so old. Are you happy? the little girl wondered. The old woman gathered the little girl to her side and took a minute to ponder. She looked deep into her little girl eyes and said "My dear child, oh such much life yet to be. We have had a most wonderful time, you will surely see." A thought so wild the little girl was not sure if it could really be. "Are you going to die soon? The little girl asked, an idea almost too hard to conceive. "I don't know when I will leave this body," the old woman said wistfully. More determinedly the old lady said, "But I don't fear death, for this is not the end of me, of us. You will see. " "Will you stay with me?" the little girl asked when the old woman went back to picking flowers. "I will always be with you. Until the very end," said the old woman as she handed her a beautiful bouquet of sweet magical flowers.
As Christmas morning dawns And children wake with yawns Excitement permeates the air With nary a worry or a care While miles across both land and sea Other children pray and plea As anguish haunts their waking day To weak to laugh, to frail to play Those well fed children, some obese With gifts a plenty, several apiece Crowding round the Christmas tree Happy, joyful, so carefree While other children, worlds apart With empty stomach and aching heart Gathered round an empty pot Despair, hungry amid stench of rot Those healthy children with toys and stuff Some spoilt brats that have enough Often whining, wanting more With gifts a plenty by the score While suffering children without food In shabby huts both stark and crude Complain not once about their plight Yet from so little derive delight So while we run around demented Stressing about which gifts to buy Perhaps it is best that we relented And asked ourselves to question why And when we talk of Christmas cheer Perhaps we ought to shed a tear And spare a thought to those without Is this not what Christmas is all about!!!
Pet Petrified In a corner Images are what memories are made of Sounds add audio for your tears Precious feelings of the horrible never forgotten Sit here—listen, this is how I feel Do you reckon I am now what I remembered I was Then… Then knees scrapped, wild hair, grass stains, Sunday dresses, shiny shoes… Let's play dress up You're mine Muse
The day he was born was with excitement and fear, Of what could become of those held so dear. The first time we held him and looked in his face, It was to see a glimmer of Gods True Holy Grace. A hand so small touched deeply into our soul, As it wrapped around a finger in a movement small. We checked every part and in their perfection found bliss. As in our hands we now held what was part her and part his. The exquisitely peaceful face beckoned us close, For nowhere else is pure innocence found in such repose. As wee little eyes opened to momentarily stare, We knew this was God's gift given unto our care. A smile was enough to encircle our heart, As we vowed to protect him and never be apart. He yawned and wiggled and fell back to sleep, As we were made in his glory almost to weep. We were once like this child so innocent and pure, And our family held us like this you can be sure. Growing up we slowly pull away while exploring the world, Demanding every thing as the world is unfurled. How could we have come so far from God's Grace? How could we have gone so far in the daily race? This little gift of life pulls us back together again, Binding us tightly as no one else can my friend. Look to your parents and give them a hug, Then nurture this gift from God's love above.
Mirror Images When I look at myself in the mirror, I see what is not there According to my clothes. Why has my viewpoint changed? I have always seen myself, As being thinner than I really am! That nasty fat girl is supposed to be gone, So why has she suddenly returned? I am not eating as much, Due to the stress of moving. But why has the fat girl returned? I'm confused!!! The fat girl is not what God wants me to see. He would want me to see The much healthier, thin woman I am meant to be. So why is the 450 pound person, Showing up in that mirror on the wall? Is it because we are moving Back to where I used to be Fat and ugly? Only God knows the answer, What am I to learn? Christine Stout
a quiet bell tolls from someplace far enough to make it so carried by the same delicate current of air that wafts a perfect mixture of her sun-warmed perfume with the runaway scent of a distant thunder cloud across a yearning yellow blanket to an overwhelmed smile that trembles at the effort of distinguishing which is more consuming
If strength is only How well you hide the pain. I must be truly strong spirited. If thinking you want death Is a matter of being gutsy enough, Then those who're gone Were even more strong Rest in peace, Yet what've they've done Shall forever haunt me...
Father does not know - She was swimming for an oasis struggling with waves after waves. The desert storm always tumbles her thoughts' relative perspectives. She can feel the storm, inside, within; the way she can feel the touches, the greed and threat. She cannot tell any friend, these chronicles as if some secrets, are binding her with this man, she likes to hate. He has threatened to kill her pet, with violence; hence, she'll be mute, she'll be silent. Only night knows her nightmares, her waking up. Irony is; her father thinks that this man must be his best friend. © 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
***PROMPT 6b*** THE TALE OF THE HEART'S SWING You see this ole swing young man well your grandpa here made it by hand. Yes sirree I sure did boy this here ole swing is not a toy. Dang I even cut down the very own tree to make this swing for grandma and me. I put in these curves and little things I had to have the most perfect swing. Well I worked day after day carving and a cuttin no time for play. When I got er done me and her had a little conversation in the end of it I told her she was a sensation. I polished her up til she shone like gold what I was doing no one knowed. This was back in nineteen and forty one that was the good old days son. I made this here sturdy ole pine swing for your grandma to make her sing. See I gave it to her when I made her my wife and we have enjoyed it in our happy life. Now listen here close boy I am givin this here swing to you for I have something that I gotta go do. Seems grandma is waitin at the Lords door for me together again the two of us will be. Now don't cry be a man,and take good care of this ole swing lotsa life in her yet,take her and give her to your wife and make her sing. Whatever you do in this world all I ask is for you to pass her on down when you go this here ole swing is worth more than all of any mans gold. I'll be a watchin you from up there in the clouds so come now boy and always know you make your grandpa proud. Yeah this ole swing could tell you some stories time for me to go now remember I always loved ya boy. Debbie Wagoner 2/26/12
I'm sitting here Surrounded by people But so alone. They don't seem to notice my pain Only concerned with themselves And their fake friend's gossip. What went wrong. I don't have anymore energy I feel like giving up and Sinking into the background. Be ignored or forgotten. But I want them to care about me Listen to me. Where is my confidence Where is my voice.
Remember when we prayed for snow To call off school, stay at home And woke to see the covered roads A wish that came within the night A blanket of inviting white That calls to every inner child Who wants to have a snowball fight And build a snowman with a smile Of twigs and coal to give him life Remember when we prayed for spring That brought the sun with longer days That warmed the grass beneath our feet While voices laughed as best friends played Till clouds rolled by and showers came Then stepped in puddles in the rain As life were lived without a care Too young to know of just how rare Are memories of time and friends Remember when, We thought these days would never end Kevin D. Fix
we made a pact he and i that wed be best friends til the day we died things got crazy and life sure changed he had the baby and i just managed to continue on with my life things got bad things got ugly my life took a turn for the worse but our pact still remains true til death unhurt do we have any better friends then the ones we had as kids i dont think so life was so simple and pure whyd it have to change i dont know but the pact still remains untouched unhurt unbroken
I remember the wooden floors of Catholic school; And the grin reflected in glossy planks; And how I learned of God, love, peace, white, pure, But never knew anything else, A warm embrace of family in the house of God, His warmth raining on me in the Spring of my youth. And the friends I had, who were wet with me, And in the name of childhood We danced and sang. But it was a child who shot down His school, covering steel bullets in blood; More powerfully covering childhood in the truth: There is no safe place. The planks hold doubter's eyes, now, The reality that death is for all of us, That each person holds the end Of strangers' worlds in his hands. If I could take the Hokies, And all the murdered youth of this greatest nation, And heal them, I would. But I did not invent the safe feeling Only remaining…hopefully somewhere.
Time for me to say My last goodbye. If this mind and outlook of mine Won't change once I leave. Then I may attempt What I've been thinking of From within those past years. I've isolated myself long enough; So no one will any longer be as close to me. I've already written and spoken My truest of feelings. Some day it may be time for me to say My last goodbye to whatever happiness That has been left behind Deep within my mind.
I I am I am more then what this poem can hold Broken bones Empty hands A full head Impossible dreams Do you like making out? Hold my hand… I am your declaration of independence written in skin, eyes, and lips I am your libertine Possibly dead air will pass me while I struggle to explain Don't leave until you understand I am a proud kitten who tears at any and every inconvenience to my own destruction I, I, I Me There is no I in me Yet my mind is still fully focused on it It being I A thing—to recognize by the time I give it away to someone who doesn't understand What it is What is it? A chocolate flower on the highest mountain A lost girl in a field of maybes A brilliant queen on a throne of a united nations A coy child wrapped in blue sheets--naked, cold, shy, muddled, afraid, alive, and unaware of it all A faithful rarity in a sea of uncommon coincidences Whatever it is It is an I a me and all at once…
He loomed large, his white t-shirt bulging, his apron hanging off an impressive gut. "Keep stirring," he said, slapping me on my back as he wandered off. Over his shoulder, "Just keep stirring." The pot loomed large, with an equally large wooden spoon. I stood on a chair and stirred. The white gooey matter didn't look like food, but it smelled creamy, with a hint of something else. The spoon moved easily in the pot, and I felt it slide across the bottom, and saw the liquid well up. I began to sweat, first from the heat and then from the work of stirring. Was it my imagination, or did the spoon move more slowly now. I gripped it with both hands, and remembered his order: Just keep stirring. I imagined this pot, this goop, sloshing inside a floating metal box, thickening as hundreds of hungry young men in blue and white waited patiently to clog their guts or, clutching a pitching rail, empty them. I weakened, I think, as I struggled to move the spoon. It felt like hands were gripping it, preventing me from stirring. I pushed with all my strength, knowing that the white paste would brown, then burn, if it stayed on the bottom too long. My adolescent body began to fail, and I called out: "Help! I can't stir the pot!" In a flash he was back, dumping gallons of milk into the pot, the paste immediately loosening its grip on the spoon. "Thanks for your help," he said. "I've got it from here."
this poem just happened to be posted on Father's Day, it is about my father but is not a *warm glow* or huggable feeling about a beloved father: I look at him, a balding, wrinkled old man He looks confused and tells me he needs a plan. He asks what time is it and where is he now? He hasn't got a clue and he looks to me. So, where was the love? I don't know, let me see. It wasn't in that old house where we grew up. It wasn't in his tone that stopped us abrupt. Where was the love when he would pull out his belt? Not in his words when he yelled "Damn it to hell!" What love there was vanished with our tears that fell. Stooped over, shuffling along; his gait is slow His pants barely fit and the back is rather low. Who are you? He queries then asks, who am I? Where is that man now, the one who made us flee? And where was the love then? Where would it be? Not when he shouted, berating each of us. It wasn't there when he would storm, yell and cuss. Where was the love when he got mad and just hit? Gone with the hurtful words that he'd fling at me. So, where was the love? Not in that house, you see. His hair is white, he stumbles and I catch him And then he'll head straight out the door on a whim. He's forgotten now how he'd laughed at our fear. Any love was gone when he'd hit just for fun. There's plenty of pity but love? No, there is none.
Once upon a time of grand pleasure There was a child with thoughts of pure fun Days danced from one to another How wonderful it felt to be young To capture secret snow forts on toboggans of imagination To cross vast fishing streams in the canoes of creation To race through open fields at the silent speed of light To dig for buried treasure and catch fireflies at night Those places that we visited were at the heart of time and space They may be gone at the present Yet, they can never be erased The ballgame in the corner lot that spectacular catch you made The birthday of your special gift when all your wished were repaid The years when certain music was inspiring and brand new When books became a vacation getting lost with; "you know who." Let's visit that time in the present not retreat to the past Let's do something that's pleasant for life rushes by too fast Now - is the time to discover what a wonder life can be Having pure fun with another by releasing the child in; "me."
I love to climb up to the tippy-top of rainbows pulling myself up on ruby red ribbons and swinging on blue bonnet bows It can be hard on me when the wild wind blows A beautifully dangerous love affair, I suppose Sometimes it can be a thorn but most times it's a rose This colorful little hobby that I chose It always leaves me with sour yellow lips fluorescent orange ears, and a neon green nose from all of the slipping and sliding and the running, hiding, and colliding Where a rainbow ends nobody knows As I close, Let me just say That the best part of my rainbow climbing day is at sunset when all of the grey has been washed away and I reach the top and get ready to play That's when I take a big breath smile, and deny death and I stop and then I dance on my tip-toes and I spin around as my whole body glows even my clothes Then I'll slide down head first breathing in the highs and breathing out the lows I always make sure to slide head first into the mist where I am colorfully kissed and feel 5 years old I bang my head of blue, green, yellow, orange and red on a giant pot of glittering gold where all of my hopes and colorful dreams unfold
A clearing vision fails. Nothing is what it seems. Your inheritance, scuffed lenses, ammonia, sins of a grandmother's house. Of a grandmother's house nothing departs unchanged. Elbows, knees and knuckles scraped raw by scour-pads, solvent, sting of scrubbed air.
Two male Cardinals in the running rose Their beauty on surroundings impose Thoughts that Spring will come someday And bring with it life to all that play Like little boys who climb trees Tiny girls who swing with ease So different are they but both love to play All the day in the wonderful sun's ray
I waited and waited, crossed the lakes the rivers, and the seas, but met no one, as I walked on, I met an old man, as he began talking to me curiously, he seemed to be, enriched with a bag, of knowledge and experience, I wondered whether his bag was heavy, or light, the thought just, passed by me at that moment, was that, what are we, in front of him, we are nothing, compared to him.
Memories haunt and yet they lead. They help us to find our way. Memories bring choices with comparisons made. Memories lead to decisions as corners we turn. But memories are fluid and change as life goes on. We forget and discard what we don't want. Later we revisit and change images again. Resentments change to love and care long lost. Achievements verses what we gave up. Even wrong can become trying to do right. Other viewpoints open the older we become… Then we revisit and memories change again. Memories can be truth or lies, but they are always… As fluid as the life from which they come.
On mornings as cold inside as out__burr She knelt__held a match against fat lighterd For she knew that this was required of her The fire would smoke, sputter__soon blaze occured Spreading rapidly engulfing the wood Seemed like a miracle from where I stood How she went on from year to year__question What could she have been in better situation She would blow the spark that ignited flames Fire would glow as did her small meager life But from her life a blaze planted__child tame Who would write of her hardships being wife And how she would teach where the Sweet Shurbs grow Down in the wet land beside the road (How to appreciate corn bread, buttermilk, and butter cold.)
Home Sweet Home My childhood home Is cherished Memories filled with Silver and gold And sometimes pure cold. No one told me It would go with me Where ever I go When I roam from Town to town I carry it with me I open the door Each night when I go to sleep And dream. I can't shake What I learned And what I didn't Learn inside My honeycomb I can't stop Moaning About that Home.
we were just neighbors he had black hair and brown eyes we were hardly seven playing hide and go seek in the neighborhood in the dark fake plastic knives expensive halloween masks hollywood took my life for a picnic they call my childhood michael myers A girl moved to town from somewhere in the states said a meteor created a river there she always liked to make up horror stories and games and chants to go along with hyperventalating truth or dare and seances imagine yourself in a cemetary imagine yourself with no friends imagine you have an unstoppable desire to kill kill kill There were a few broken ribs a few doors busted down no one died but i will never forget what happened in that particular town looks like halloween just not the right day screaming children just out to play so many lines from your horror movie stolen right from my mouth tears in my eyes to the relisation that something so awful went soo far ask any of my old friends they will tell you of that great hiding place why some of my better friends ended up insane and never threw me away not sure how much longer i'll survive my exaggerated childhood on display wait till i grow up a bit more and then parade every other mistake i've made the loveless relationship i have with the world ends today his name was never michael myers, only few of us know his real name
Stone upon the water front/ Next to the cashmere pillow, The pier near the gallow shore/ A man began to speak, Within this land there shall be no way out accept I tax, This gravitational pull may bring some down, Yet if you stay and listen very carefully/ You will live through this time and be very happy ! Many of you have become lazy in the manner of laws, A decree will be summoned to let us know/ The waiting may be hard to comprehend, Yet within time you can grow to depend/ The fat of the land, Let this man take you by the hand/ There can be no further excuses or escape, The way will depend upon the hearer's !
Isolating my feelings of envy, Locking myself away. I apologize for being deep Inside my mind everyday. I'm not sure about what I should do Whenever I'm tangled up with one of you. Bored when there's nothing new to Say or to do. Broken soul when I keep myself inside. Inner mind is where I push back my bad feelings. I must be crazy By being bored of one friend and Going over there one week later again. I may become bored for a small amount of time, But only those who have reached My heart and soul Are the ones I'll always like the most.
To the little boy lost To the little boy lost Who longed for a home Where dreams are encouraged And spirits can soar Instead you were given A house that was cold With cruelty and anger And constant reminders How worthless you are To the little boy lost With words you were broken As you faded from life Your eyes dark and empty Once full of light Now searching the shadows For places to hide From a childhood that haunted The rest of your life To the little boy lost My friend and my brother Though younger than you To this day, guilt and pain makes me wonder Why time brought me through But left you behind Where you carried inside The little boy lost Who had nothing to lose And no hope inside When you ended your life To the little boy lost Who's part of my soul Wherever you are I hope you have found What you never could find Here in this life A place to call home Kevin D. Fix
Going back to my childhood home today Oaks still there even though been long away Your memories I take with me heavy They are on my back; leaving them___ready To be free of oppressing memories Remembering him in his dungarees Yet hard seems the memory of him now Fierce, stony was his attitude somehow Fear and tension he did bring to the child Leave that one; go to another for awhile Inhale the aroma of Sweet Shrub__spring She would take child there__ the pleasant place bring Her kitchen pleasant aroma__biscuits Warmth, love, food, and comfort her best portraits (After reading Edna St. Vincent Millay, I was impressed to write this one..)
THE BOOGEYMAN WILL GET YOU-LOOK OUT!! They have said that to me ever since I was a wee boy Lurking under the sheets,in the closet,behind one's back Especially at night when we are susceptible to the vivid imaginations of our peers' taunting ravings of Unmentionable crawlers of the dark and fright I would not sleep with the closet door half open to fill these frightened pupils of what may hide behind It would scare me out of my adolescent mind,to know that something SINISTER would come from the shadows and SCARE me to death from behind Every little boy or girl would be so sensitive to the Boogeymen stories that their elders or friends would tell them,how green and deathly evil their eyes can be when they look back at you.Is it purely imagination or something of a twisted and macabre sense of humor that our brothers and sisters would like to throw back at us..for kicks and thrills,Halloween night terrors of unimaginable thrills When I was younger,the Man with a Forever Grin,would like to ridicule and terrorize me with his Devil-may-bite smile and assistant ghosties who would play along for the HELL of it. I may be a grown man now,my friend,but whenever I pop a HALLOWEEN dvd in my player,the mind cannot help but recollect the pictures of Night Terrors that forever go bump in the night where I live.. I hope the same can be said of those same Vile screamers that terrorize us in the first place..give them a taste of their own WICKED medicine
Sitting here,I dream Those Summer days of my youth, Life was slower then - Holidays,so full of sun Time, just drifted by, Daylight lasting,oh so long - Days stretched into weeks Carefree as we ventured forth Growing up,was simpler then.
We are young and try to be, Independent and free. Got the world beneath our feet, they took our innocence to keep. These the men of old, who swapped their hearts for shining gold. Now they try to steal our souls to wrap around their brittle bones. Locked in chambers made of stone, their children they beg to play alone. Wrapped up tight in broken ropes, they pray for guns instead of hope. But we found love, we will thrive, despite the lies that you deny. And we will end what you begun. Turn our backs onto the sun. We run through the night fighting for our sacrificial right. And we howl to the moon, like it is what we were born to do. And when we hear the gypsy's chant, we stand up tall and dance. When the sun begins to rise, we bow our heads and close our eyes. Because we are young and try to be, independent and free.
Have I lived so long in Eden's grave and never felt the ocean's wave or touched the silken butterfly who dances for the children's eye Colors more than sight allows have I embraced those burning clouds ending days in appetite for stars in heaven's pride of night did I live so long and never taste snow - so shyly kissing the face aimless, white melodies clothes for barren naked trees do I listen what the rivers say they're wisdom of a thousand days winding from a mountains height against the stone's endless fight A scissor tail, robin's nest did I hear the song so curious Have I lived at all - have I lived a day Have I lived so long in Eden's grave
A paper lantern of a girl; Dim halo hazy, stitched thin by needlework. A precision seamstress of darker dreams-- Freedom is a luxury, not A privilege. "Lanterns" Jenna-Nichole Conrad Wordsmith
How sweet the honey suckled air, long summer days without a care, (our childhood feet were always bare), spent playing in the hot sun's glare. On summer nights we played 'til dark, in fields among the meadowlarks, to us, it was a real ball park, we left there sweaty, faces marked. Through darkness lit with fireflies, (like walking home through star-filled skies), our sleep was deep, life simplified, lulled by cricket's lullabies. Carolina's endless summers, filled with play and guiltless slumbers, children free and unencumbered, unaware our days were numbered. ©Danielle White
Climb mountains! Slay Dragons! That's what I did When I was a kid Now it's too much All this grownup stuff Amalgamations Corporations Business-like murder under the guise of merger Micro-second chattel battles waged on computer panels Flash before my eyes In a plate glass high-rise Now all my mountains are made of paper, and all my dragons wear ties
Old Red Old Red woke the world as blazing sun was about to rise he was the world in a young child's tender heart and eyes Sweet are those memories of Old Red 's many escapades his chasing away our loved Tomcat on his many little raids Each day we needed not any old blaring electric alarm for Old Red was there doing such fine duties on our farm The hens he kept so very safe, free from any great harm he was loved for his call, beauty and so very great charm My Dad gave him , a little chick as a very special gift to me a most sweet morning that was, a future great love to be! Over the next six years both our loves did so happily grow Old Red was exceptional and did truly my great love know Everyday, I doing my chores and I kept him quite well fed nightly I journeyed forth to check him before going to bed Locking up, protecting my Red from predators so very bad every morning hearing his blaring call so very, very glad! A young boy of eleven woke to a sad and fateful event Old Red was about to find his last earthly hours spent Dad had seen Old Red's duties were not quite up to par time to do his duty send Red to a kitchen not so very far Having slept late , quickly did I jump up from my bed racing outside to greet my very sweet friend Old Red Only to see Old Red about to be cut so very, very dead! down came the axe and quickly off came my Red's head! Dad spoke, son you knew this would some day have to come that sooner or later Old Red would a family meal become Then it struck me, all things must eventually go their way Old Red, my great friend, was never meant to forever stay! So long ago , now both my "Reds" are so sadly passed away both in my memories are so loved , each in a very special way Robert Lindley, 06-21-2014 I got "Old Red" when I was only 5 years old , lost him six years later at eleven years old. Lost my Dad only four years later. Life is a blessing but in it we lose so many things we dearly love. Losing a mother, father or child , absolutely nothing hurts more!!! Sadly, I lost my father far too soon and two newborn infants as a very young married man. So very , very blessed to still have my mother!
i chased you around in circles until we both were out of breath you caught me a golden butterfly and watched me as you let it go we danced in forever fountains and got caught up in our dreams we told each other secrets and made promises we could never keep we kissed each other's innocence and watched it fly in forever fountains like golden butterflies sometimes do
I met an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years We didn't get mushy, so no spilling of tears. However, we did sit and chat for a long while Reminiscences of a time that oft made us smile. He is one of a few people who I have known most of my life And I had thought of those days when we knew not strife. We talked about how we had been such wild kids indeed That now, for only our souls, our prayers needed to plead. We spoke of the generations in our understanding of love Our parents and grandparents, watching down now from above. Then, of our children for whom we wanted a better life there to be Realizing of course, that this is every parent's wish to see. We talked of the things we remembered most dear Lighting small images in my brain front and rear. Those few lights that are kept in that deep recess Are only allowed out, when thought of with much tenderness. There were other images there too That stuck to my mind, like paper to glue. Of course those images are now a nostalgic smatter At the time they occured, they were no laughing matter. We parted the eve with a solemn promise That we would continue to share these thoughts in us. For it is not often that you have a friend for so many years And the ones who are gone...for them I shed tears.
Used to look through child's eyes Used to stare at star ridden skies Used to smile at silly sounds Used to dream of the future's bounds Used to play in the thicket of my mind Used to search for a place to hide Used to act like story book heroes Used to count from 100 back to zero Used to hold my breath till my face was bright red Used to believe all the words that everyone said Used to want a big house and brand new car Used to hope that I could someday set the bar Used to use my imagination Used to use that motivation Now being used by my frustration Of being used by my own generation Used to... used to... You know I used to... Use it all without a thought Used too... Used too... We're all being used too... Bought and sold like an old iron pot Used to... used to... You know we all used to... Dream our world would never rot Used too... Used too... It's all being used too... All our resources from bottom to top Used to sit up all hours of the night Used to believe that people were alright Used to think that we could still pull through Used to think that everybody knew Used to have faith in the 'truth' Used to see their words as proof Used to hide these tears I'd cry Used to hold my head up high Used to think I had a grasp Used to disguise myself with a plastic mask Used to act like there was no problem Used to hypocritically mock any and all of 'em Used to use their aspiration Used to use their motivation Now they use their investigation To bind us to their administration Used to... used to... You know I used to... Use it all without a thought Used too... Used too... We're all being used too... Bought and sold like an old iron pot Used to... used to... You know we all used to... Dream our world would never rot Used too... Used too... It's all being used too... But when will this mass consumption ever stop?
Flame haired woman child standing poised upon the cliff Yearning to be set free Momentarily quiet Unmoving Like the stillness before the storm Giving voice to her future self Suddenly she bursts into motion Dancing and sparkling Reminiscent of sunshine on wind tossed waves Child awakened once more But still only half aware Behind her eyes lies unknown depths As the ocean holds secrets Eddies and currents Never seen upon the surface Sometimes slow warm and gentle Then turning cold Deep, mysterious Ages old with innocence above
Look into the mirror child Tell me what you see… Lost dreams and hopes of years Past and gone, Or all the possibilities Look behind those bright brown eyes Tell me what you see… Things a child should never know, Things no soul should see Look into that broken heart That's trampled on And stone cold Times of regret Have worn your soul And drowned your joy in seas See the light reflected Off the mirror, see See there's hope for you and me Endless opportunities Life beyond this mirror Child, stop looking back now The future is beyond this glass Make your choice and make it last Hope for you has just begun Living life in the light of the Sun Joy is yours and peace at last Looking beyond this glass Looking beyond this glass
I can see you dancing on the lawns, innocence, laughing, running, arms carefree and unabashed. Your vision holds me, as if held in a moment of such happiness and magic that I can barely think to breath. But as a distant sound breaks my dream, I feel the emptiness once more. No warmth of a breeze can break my fall from that high place. How then should someone address their loneliness when all that was their life has gone from their touch. When all that changed them from nothing to something has itself turned to nothing but for an aching love. It cannot be left by the bed in the morning when you wake and picked up again at a time of nostalgia, or left downstairs when you ascend the steps at night in hope of sleep. It is you and it is your love... it is what you have and it is why you are.... Emptiness ... fullness of feeling... it is because they were... and they still are.
Rebellious young child of the sea, Why do you always flee From admitting yourself wrong, And still letting your heart be filled with envy and pride? Why do you glide away From friend to friend? Seems like whatever you do will always end. I hear you are rebellious against His Word And that you allow astrology and deep intrepretations to be thy guide. Everyone says that you are just that way, Because you believe you're forever a child, Yet contradictingly, You say you're a child of The Lord, If so, why are you some times impure and insecure? Thy answer is, "I am free to be what I want to be..." "For Jesus' salvation is for everyone including me..." "Although I run away, my soul clings onto friends and misses them dear..." "I'm usually not myself around others, because I have one small fear..." "I pray every night, asking for His forgiveness and loving light," "And I also have this continuous inner fight..."
It takes uncertainty, I know to walk out your door and walk through another that's not yours Of course, there's too a course that other, unfamiliar, shoes use There are signs and there are signs not always along the way There is opportunity there is stop'n wait'n see choices others can't make You'll find too, things that go wrong. . . far from the right Afternoon. . . turns to morning. . . skips to night There is certain to be a promise. . . a goal. . . a loss and love's. . . not yet in the toss Advice listened, taken and given Too few things, too many things. . . you'll come to know It takes certainty to walk out your door
Be Brave Start this way Wind up all your webs Finally let them flow into the tornado of lies Be Courage Don't forget the origination Simple sits and simple imagination It is where it starts Be Alive Take beauty Utilize yearnings of hope Fill others with song ...Maybe this way we will grow into what we imagined ourselves to be when we were young enough to be Brave Courageous Alive
Many good memories darken As the shadows of loneliness and inner pain settle in. Repeatful mistakes coming along with revolutionary lessons, Increasing inner strength each day. Secretly crying in the night, Simply killing the sadness in pure daylight, Aspiring to be an amazing inspiration to all nations. Planning constantly, Always achieving all she can. Interpreteting her dreams and sign, Gaining as much knowledge and wisdom as she can, Elevating to the next level. Flaming strong spirit, so warm, Accumulating fiery soul, Rushing through the cold. Innerly fighting, courageously, Eagerly hoping all her struggling will be worth it. She will never officially give up...
Let's put ourselves in their shoes Let's take time to understand why they act the way they do They're tired Tired of being surrounded by liars Tired of seeing bags underneath their eyes Developed from the lonely night cries They're tired of being tired the next day from the night before All from staying awake waiting for their mom to walk through the door Their tired of feeling like nobody cares Being alone, with no food to eat is too much to bare Tired of what's suppose to be a home being a house Of seeing parents play with their children while stuck on the inside looking out Tired of wondering why do they have to suffer the pain And be apart of life's hardest game Tired of crying when people see what's wrong As if we don't hear the sad tune playing in their hurtful song They yearn to be where they belong and desire to be A place where they can feel good, happy, and stress free Where they can smile, laugh, and play But mostly, go home to a loving family at the end of each day
The cardboard castle protects the king The worthy knights are friends with dreams With wooden swords and paper crowns And horses made by clicking sounds That's rode by those who dare to dream Beyond a world that can't be seen By minds that limit what they believe When imagination has no bounds To take us places we've never been Or close our eyes and drift like clouds That comes to life with silhouette's Of ships that sail the sky Or shapes that's so familiar Wishing to believe they'd come alive Telling tales of great adventures Taking those who wish to fly High above and free to journey With imagination at your side Endless wonders are yours to hold When you open up your mind Cause within we're still the boys and girls Who dreamed of kings and queens Whose yard was made of distant lands Where friends could make believe That battles won, and dragons fought Was more than sticks and trees But a place we sometimes forget That imagination gives us wings Kevin D. Fix
What is broken, Still shines great beauty... Whoever or whatever that reaches the inside of me, Is a treasure worthy enough for me to forever hold... When night comes, My feelings and thoughts truly unfold... During the darkest of my hours, I unleash my expressive powers... While the dawn hast come, My energized mind numbs For only a moment, I will wait... The sun rises As the deepest gates of my imagination Flood open and bring on the waves of emotion. Winds of hope blow away my tears... And the inner sea, in me, Begins to shine colours, From the bluest of all these days, To the grayest of my depressed ways... These gray waters... Change into a glow of hopeful silver... And at long last, I let go of the past, As this sea is painted gold by the eternal sun... I am saddened and gladdened, here and there... Yet, whatever is broken... Still shines great beauty...
Each day that I get up and greet the new dawn Posing at the mirror,first..to see what changes have been going on My eyes cannot look at what lies before me 55'waist on a 5ft 7 frame These hands reach into the old treasure chest in the closet I open it up and there before me is A Superman comic(circa 1986-A CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTH crossover) 12 vhs tapes of STAR TREK,the original series(courtesy of Paramount Pictures) An E.T.The ExtraTerrestial costume that mom made for me and of course,the most treasured possession of all: A FRUIT-OF-THE-LOOM jockey short that I wore throughout Freshman and Sophomore year in High School The DIRTY jokes that my Classmen used to tell Old and disgusting chewing gum sticking to the toilet bowl with this note: BERNIE&CHRISTINE,SITTING UP ON THAT TREE..K.I.S.S.I.N.G. I hold up that smelly jockey garment from long ago to my expanding waist Now I do know WHEN and WHERE the years did go too much partying with the cubicle nerds PAPA GINO'S and A&W root beer just lying around for some aging X'er to take a bite and a gulp Every night before I trot off to sleep,the hemorrhoids keep acting up disturbing the many custard pie remnants that exhale from the behind Mother told me that too much of that would be Dangerous,sickening,and unkind I can't help it if I do not want to let go of my young appetite,as yet Creatures from the old yearbook,Ravishingly young and wile It brings forth a pleasant memory and before I am off to dreamland This face offers up,one more juvenile smile,from yesteryear GOOD NIGHT
Ducks quack and waddle toward us, grabbing food from your tiny outstretched hands Bread crumbs fall onto dusty Earth; they eat. You run toward the cedar box kicking chips, and sit on metal swing "Jess, push me." hair flaps behind and giggles fill us joy.
Log cabin She grew up in a log cabin on the top of a mountain over looking a river in the valley With flowers on both sides growing That time has come and past But the memories still persist of her childhood of growing up out here In the green lust forest She lived with her father who taught her all about life and she still remembers her mother Who died when she was just five? her father become both parents to her taking care of his only little girl leading her to the right path to take to be a success in the world He send her to school then collage and she graduate top of her class Today she's a heart surgeon Performing a Coronary bypass She married a wonderful guy She met in medical school He fainted when he saw blood She smiles but though he was cool They go to the log cabin for vacation every year And she tells her children of her childhood growing up there Every one of us Will always go back in time To the childhood we that had And relive every minute it in our mind Just take a minute to remember And I bet you will smile Thinking of so many fun things You did when you was a child Growing up in Trinidad was so much fun With my brothers and parents An for Christmas my grandmother Would buy us so much presents I Will always think of my childhood of the many years spend in my home And in marabella, la romain, and Indian trail Where my memories will always roam She finishes setting the table As the fire place starts to light They are having dinner with her father In the log cabin tonight
Earthly joys were felt by this child at play, let them still be yours today, to remind you always.... that tomorrow is another day. Earthly joys spring forth from new wishes, to explore another dimension with a mind set in determination... and should we hold them in our grasps? Earthly joys that made my childhood and yours so exuberant, unable to obliterate them from memories, sweeter than anything we can't offer or merely improvise... why are they more lustrous than sun-rays? Earthly joys sustaining that hope that they will last, to console us when aloness becomes death, too real for our weakened breath... retrace them, relive them until they pass. Entered in Brian Strand's contest, " Tomorrow is another day"
The sad little child With the broken down smile Thought how could this be Why no one could see This pain I've endured While the cries go unheard By the secrets kept silent Behind closed doors Of a room filled with fear And what footsteps would bring And hoping for morning Just wishing for sleep, Or somewhere to hide Under the covers Or inside of my dreams Till the nightmare is over And the child is set free From the secrets kept silent By the one's who should love me Kevin D. Fix
Our Union My eyelashes bat After meeting your gaze From across a Crowded subway haze. My pupils dilate when they Look back at you over dinner Where we drank wine and ate. My feet dance with glee as we Fall hopelessly in love In the midst of summer heat. My heart splits apart To become your wife And your forever sweetheart. My legs spread Open to bare new life And see your cheeks rosen. My arms push You away at night, I'm too tired for a sex life. My fists rage and tears pour, When I discover your arms Embracing another lover After coffee one early morn. My ears listen to Your words of regret and Pleads for a second chance For things to be like When we first met. My fingers dial Seeking third party counsel To repair our shattered union. My brain waves Shift to understand your Thoughts and your feelings, While I bitterly convey my own. My hand re-opens To forgive your sins And make amends. My lips part to Receive your kiss in the Night in a sea of Skin in our warm bed. My heart flutters, We've truly become one, Years after we bore our son.
Those nights I have cried in, Disappeared when I put you Inside a special place in my mind. No matter how far apart, We'll always meet again at a new start. I felt guilty for letting you go And for letting one of my most precious friendships Fall apart... I felt sad on some nights, Until you brought back out friendship's bright light. Tears and fears have once ruled my life, But then I found you again, My friend...
Baseball cards a rubber band, an 1894 Indian head penny the aroma of cheap tobacco filled the bottom of an old cigar box my box of dreams where no one else could go when I was grown the box became a distant memory, I had forgotten the magic of dreams-cynical adulthood in Hollywood I was sure that I was home only to find a pink slip and a plane ticket my depression black as a moonless night I lived inside this tube of insanity where nothing made sense I felt like dying snorting cocaine to take away the pain-growing thin I lost control of my life once again gazing through teary eyes I saw it... my box of dreams when I opened it I found a time capsule baseball cards a rubber band and that 1894 Indian head penny the box still wafting old tobacco from 30 years past filled my nostrils my life was not full of hope anymore just the agony of knowing how I wished that I could start over one more feeble attempt at life eventually I fell asleep I had a dream that it was all a terrible mistake my war wounds drug addiction all passed away in my unconscious mind… when I awoke I felt a moment of Peace… of hope Dedicated to Rhoda Galgiani
Dream child float away lilting through the night on your summer bed softly in shadows sweet the mystery of you is true my heart comes unglued at your golden sight rocking you in tender contemplation true in every movement how could you be wrong and that proves it too what you learn is only just a wrapping of blankets leaving you pure even in your darkest deed as you grow to be less and I cast my eyes into your heart sweetly listening to you sleeping my eyes grow tired too but stay open just to know another moment of this bliss hoping you might stay just a day longer before the time must come as you walk your own path blossoming from this root you have come full circle I wonder, wonder, wonder but answers fall away I am content to know nothing and only be here in this true moment alone by myself with you my precious dream that breaths our two worlds kissing edges like distant galaxies of far away times
It went with my mind It went with my method It went before I had it, like the cold air smoking through fingertips. Frozen lines case tumours deflation. All this time, with nothing to do but give and get given.
I've already told you Everything, and now I feel That I have nothing else to bring Out of my thoughts to you... And gotta try, To forget about you And move on. Because I am sick and tired Of making myself cry. All along, My feelings have seen you as An off and on love. I will never think of you As someone who was true... I shall get rid of such a bond I've grown to have with you...
My family loves me. My parents wore gentle gloves While they raised me When I was a baby. My mother and father Save me from drowning Whether in aquatic places Or in one of my emotional despair traces. My grandparents care for me, Even if they rub in the truth Too frankly and bluntly. The bad things other say about me Are not true. But my family will always Bring me through sad times. I am glad my aunts, uncles, and cousins are mine. My family knows me as a One of a kind child. They are what save me.
Born on the earth To bring her mirth, Aditya, a rising Sun, By illuminating Horizon, Imparting her 'Sanjeevan', Glitters in Heaven! The eclipsed Sun darkens! But fadeless Aditya, always brightens! Your success with outstanding 'O', Arouses in my mind, a respectful awe! With your imperishing, triumphant, fadeless glow, Your friends and foes, with respect will bow! I have no doubt, You have a clout, By your eternal Love, In future do prove, That the glittering, fadeless, triumphant Sun, Is not in Heaven, but is in you, O! 'Outstanding' sun!! May I wish, you shine 'Brighter than the Thousand Suns'!!
My friendship is beyond The clouds of loneliness. It's beautifully bright rays Rarely breaks through them. When it does, my Gemini emotions Are uplifted. Was born on a sunny day, Yet I experience all this raining pain Throughout my life... Times I now spend with friends are fleeting, But the bonds are everlasting.
I shall never fully let go Of the feelings, thoughts, memories Of everything that once flowed into my life. I am always envisioning my future, Always lingering in the past. I feel strongest when both of my Mindsets of future and past align. I will always be living in the present. I'll never give up on my way of thinking. The blending of yesterday, today, and tomorrow Is my way of diversifying times From which I shall grow.
Fictitious families Dysfunctional means Compromised children Capricious teens Serrated self-loathing Culling scarred skin Dapper diagnoses Dulling depression's din Psychotropic pulses Sedentary screams Subjugated subjects Catharsis of dreams Dusk dawning In convenience's vanity Vociferous voices Pilfering sedated sanity Slurred smiles Lithium lies Hanging from vestiges Suicide survives
Summer Day Walking down the dusty country road Skipping rocks over the creek Running through the pasture chasing cows Taking a long dip in a cool lake on a hot summer day Catching a horny toad to bring home to Mom Whistling my way down the long dusty road Free to do whatever I please along the way What a great way to spend a summer day
When negativity attacks me... I start to feel hopeless, sad, depressed, angry, Jealous, shameful, guilty, afraid, and lonely. I want to eat some food for comfort, I need friends to talk to, I need attention, I need reassurance, I need advice, Every terrible fact about everything comes into my mind, Everything falls apart... My inner strength breaks down, I stop smiling and frown. The blues get my dark feelings going. I become the odd one out. When negativity consumes all, my positivity comes in, Big and tall, Just like me, who wouldn't agree? I start to think positively, I begin to feel happy, proud, strong, Patiently waiting for my bright destiny, Because a strong-spirit girl is my identity.
I want to take you on a journey, From the present back to the past. To take a moment to reflect on, A possibility of why things do not last. I want you to take some time to reflect, On some of the things that you've gone through. Some of the things that created gigantic hurdles, That you are still fighting without having any clue. I want you to remember when, Those harsh words were spoken to you. Those words that still stick in your mind, For years and years all the way through. In your original plans back in the days, You had high hopes along with your dreams. But they were diminished by the advice of some others, And caused you to go through many extremes In a sense you had been deprived of your liberty, To operate in this present of the end of the times. To meet the maximum of the most of the potential you had, You still unto this day remember the lines. And some of those situations, That you had to face, back then. Are still staring you directly in the face, Because they have never left you from within. It's a sense of your freedom being taken away, Being mentally put into confinement involuntarily. Not being able to reach successfully for the future, Because your mental state of mind was damaged purposefully. You have emotionally been locked up for so long, That you don't even realize that you are presently free. Mentally restrained or captured if I may say, You had lost your very own future's custody. If this controls you at this very moment, Then bondage still has control of you. And the goals that you have set up for yourself, You will need to be delivered in order to see them through Well we are now at present and I want to ask you this, I want to know if I were to right now ask "Are you now able to achieve your goals?" Or are you still suffering as a "Prisoner of the Past"
Like a pearl in a shell, In a cradle o bairn! You dwell To you even this tiny space May seem a vast expanse! So live, that as you grow, By your glorious deeds you show, That this universe- your cradle Would be petite, finite and humble!
Why I'm so reclusive in my life Is something I've come to realize... What the main key to my self's strife. Analyzed this reason before; I have done so many times more. When among strangers, There are few who click with me And are within my personality's range. Fears and conclusions Which I consider dangers Used to be illusions. Illusions become reality And thus my own morality Is to befriend those Who feel lonely. I do not want to always approach people, For I do not know them And would like it if they Got to know me first. My family know me so well. Yet my cousins are changing. My mind is still trying to Rearrange these growing-up Thoughts and feelings of mine.
Sorry, T.V., I got another screen to check-out. Sorry, my bodily heart, but I have another hobby To ruin you until death do us part. Sorry, my friends, but I got a new addiction. (And your intuition is wrong if you've Guessed the words "video game".) Sorry, druggy fools, I am not an addition to your shame. Sorry, mommy and daddy, I've got my own new set of rules.
once I was a scared little girl living in a castle with an Evil Queen and her Ogre King every other weekend my White Knight would rescue me and take me to his humble home for a much-needed respite lawmakers of the land were under the spell of the Evil Queen and forced me to return time and again I eventually escaped that castle and another Ogre thrown in my path I may seem strong but inside I am still that scared little girl I no longer require rescuing there is only room in life for one White Knight I would like to find a man who is still a scared little boy so that we can hold each other's hands as we grow up and learn to slay our dragons together
Keeping and making friends Isn't easy as it seems, When you're in a place That's supposed to hold The best few years of Your time amidst society. Everyone's naturally Holding their own individuality, Most people seem so easily Associating themselves with Those whom they feel similarly. In my current time of life It feels like the simplicity Of imagining and playing With fellow children Is now distantly forgotten And left behind in our minds. Yet even back then, It was like as if I've always Been in my head, Thinking all the same, but differently. Back then, I felt as if I could be with many Who appreciate me for being me. Walking around alone Isn't as easy as it seems to feel, Thinking "If only we could naively See through the walls that hide what's real. Oh the walls we've grown into having." The concept of socializing Is not built like different toy houses With open walls too see into each one. The basic aspects of adolescence Have never been easy. So as a child at heart I am Isolated, but always quietly wide open. Waiting for friends Who want to befriend me.
Head in the clouds, Yet capable of flying back down to the earth. Her wings represent the value of freedom, How she also can fly anywhere else, But also how she returns her own feet back to the ground, To heal her own or others' inner doubts With the parts of grand truth she has found.
Long pressing Bears the weight of the falling world around me Over tinkered days and hollowed years Has the growing spiral of downward turn Unwound before my eyes As my heart and mind Have weathered And my soul and will Have crumbled…bit by bit To the sorrowed step of un-kept time And I I have stood as if motionless Looking on While the blackened vines of ignorance And the fettered thorns of foolish greed Have smothered, as would seem, all before me And while I sat in huddled desperation Seeking not but to continue on in mere existence A child passed by… And suddenly I felt to leave all behind And follow …Jeff Bresee
Happy Everyone is happy In this bright world Because of God Because he made this world A good world to live in And the devil did nothing for us And the devil shouldn't exist
I stood amidst a green field of grass Around me the wind breathed . . . softly Above the world a sun watched over me Below, amid a pond scintillating with light My family, my friends swam and laughter sang to us all I stood apart as always I did in the past before this day Yet this time I did not feel apart, nor alone, no more the outsider For I was there swimming and laughing with them, in spirit I was there And from behind me I listened to soft footfalls approaching But I did not turn around instead I awaited his voice For I knew he had come to speak, to learn so I would listen Together we stood watching my family laughing and swimming Until at last he spoke to bring forth the beginning "Hey, you're one of those guys aren't you?" He asked and I felt his frown upon me So I turned to him and withdrew my shades There before me I saw a child standing Who had much to live, much to experience So much to learn and so I smiled A soft smile with gentleness And this I said to him "No, I am not one of those guys, I am one man, nothing more Nothing less, just a man Like you I am a man." His brow creased as he thought about my words And so I put my hand upon his shoulder and I spoke again "Come, let us join them." And together the child and I, the man, walked down to my family And when I arrived my family, my friends, greeted me and said "Hello Patches, come and swim with us, laugh with us." So I did and as I did I felt the child sleep peacefully And I knew, I knew that it was alright For I am just a man, one man Like you
with muse in hand I'll take you on a walk to remember do you remember when you used to be able to keep your windows and doors unlocked and got to enjoy the night breeze's while you slept do you remember when you were able to walk to your local corner store and not get jacked do you remember when soda and cigarettes were 50 cents a pack and 25 cents a can and suddenly you had friends you've never knew you had before do you remember when you could ride a city bus for a dime and go downtown and look at christmas displays without getting knocked off feet do you remember when gas was only a nickle a gallon so family's could take a nice summer vaction without noise and traffic do you remember when kids walked to school safely and never had to worry who was lurking behind them do you remember sitting at the soda shopp just dancing and twisting the night away without having rumbles do you remember when boys were boys and girls were girls well on this walk to remember I'm sure there still out there but got lost along the way Tribute To Youth And The Oldies Also Entry For Constance La France's A Walk To Remember Contest
Always feeling such inner hurt, My heart just feels so insecure in the night. But there is always a light Guiding me through my lonely days. Sometimes I find life so unfair, Yet some days I don't really care... Seems like I always try different ways to express my feelings Then I start retrieving truths I possibly never wanted to hear And then I break down spiritually. I hide my negativity and believe I can make it through On my own. Thoughts from the dark Leave me with a lonely soul. Ready to take the toll Of thoughts that merged into my mind. On optimistic days I believe I have the potential To be successful And that all my lonely and stressful years Will be worth going through. "Everyone who wants to disappear, Look inside And search for the light that resides... There you will find That you must stay true to yourself, And try your hardest to harness your dreams... Because the sadness and darkness in your mind Are only gleams of what you'll really find (Hope is the key)..."
We've been through Roughening waves, But we sat and never threw Ourselves out of furious rave. One day my heart Will be glad that We haven't yet fallen apart And are not as sad as before. Our time was like a boat... No matter where we went, Our time was well spent, Even while we continuously float. One day you'll be as happy As you were in that rural place. We'll together repair our broken vase. You and I were inseparable friends... So I wished it didn't end. Our bond has been fragile For quite some while. I've been thinking of ridding it... Though I know I'll resolve it all somehow. So I hope you will accept the flora I shall give to you one day...
Today I lived my life with ghosts Both living and dead Your face, their face Slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor Hundreds of pictures of you and them Hundreds of moments and moments and moments Too numerous and caught in that web of time Dangled on a cobweb so thin, so fine It could break but does not snap And lasts and lasts And holds and holds All there, suspended in that instant Before falling to the floor, Or in the box of memories. To be kept. So where do you reside, in the bin or the box? Where do you live for future's worth? Will you be cut adrift or salvaged in those stepping stones to the past. And yet, she still picked up those photos of you Pained and dulled Still confused and stabbed by what has happened over time. She saw your face and paused. Reflected. She then gently collected up those images of you and me And saved them in the box One day for all to see in times to come. She decided not to put you in the bin. Unlike me. She rescued her childhood. Put down a marker in the sand And said stop to the sea To the waves and waves That break over time and pain Saved you from the blankless pile of Venice and Florence And Christmas and beaches and Barbies and laughter And with a simple dignity She gave you back some worth.
I have always known I was unusual. A small voice whispered in my youth. I saw things in an unconventional light. I could only imagine what others thought of me. I worked so hard to alter their perception, and mine. That first vision, one so important. How could they know what I couldn't face? I ran in the opposite direction fleeing headlong down the wrong path. Years after, I converged upon that old path, overgrown from years of neglect. Slowly, I reclaimed what was once mine and evolved into the one I was meant to be.
Jealousy was deep Within my heart, But it had always kept me In a prison of despairing And deluding thoughts. Free of such feelings, I now see how jealousy only increases Questions of confusion, It never brings joyful endings.
When I think about them My heart aches, Because on the inside I am drowning in the tide. Is it envy or hate that I feel, Or is it just that I yearn For them so much. This all takes me To the point of colliding feelings. I am happy that They have friends of their own... Yet my self-sacrifice Doesn't seem worth it In the end, for myself. The thought of them hurts me. Yet I'm not sure If my heart is Allowed to feel empty And this meaningless jealousy. Is it self-put Or do I just truly Desire their company...? On the inside, I'm not sure How this complexity Resides in me (in my mind).
Oh, I wish that this old world Was like the Roy Rogers' range— Where every boy and girl Didn't have to view folks strange. It used to be safe outside— All the children could go play— But now they worry and hide In their homes both night and day. Seems there's just too many ways That our kids can now be harmed— They've missed their innocent days— Their lives are no longer charmed. We played all day with no care— Didn't know 'bout an upper— Ball games left no time to spare, Till mom's called us to supper. Yes, those were different times, When sex was not all we thought— And news was not just more crimes— What kind of world have we got? I wish we could relive days When Roy Rogers kept us straight— Before things became a maze Of drugs, thugs and war and hate. I wish we did not grow up To a world that's now so strange— And death drank not of our cup, Like on a Roy Rogers' range.
At seven my little brother arrived. I wanted him to be a girl because I loved my mom this much (I spread my arms wide as the sea)
When growing up, we had our seats Around the dining table. We knew where everyone belonged – We didn't need a label. Within the car, the rules applied; The window seat was mine. The youngest got the middle seat – He'd dare not try to whine. As an adult, I'm still the same – I like the seat I've picked; In classrooms, lunchrooms, or the car – Usurpers I evict. Some people just don't understand. They think I'm dictatorial, When really, it's within my genes To be quite territorial. We all have quirks, and one of mine Is choosing where I sit. It's juvenile and just a tad Obnoxious, I admit. But since it means a lot to me Most people seem to yield, Perhaps enjoying someone else's Craziness revealed!
I remember when I was verbally bullied, I would not tell my parents or teacher Of what was happening. I would only take it all in solitary stride, I remember always feeling Both sad and happy in being alone. I think about it now, I realize the reasons why I was bullied, why I was resentful of those who done so to me. I realize how silly it all was as a whole. I notice how it seems to be my fault, I rejected their offers for friendship. I still think I was right, I intuitively knew of their potential two-faced sides. I have had friends long before then. I unwillingly moved elsewhere (Away from mine friends back then). I seem to have lost them For as long as I shall continue to live. I eventually had no one But [one] older and [some] younger cousins. I remember when I was my parents' only beloved little one. I would have everything a child wanted and needed. I realized my parents often never played with me, I have come to feel They were never a good refuge for my feelings anyway. I see how I've changed from a beloved child To now this lonely soul. I notice how everybody else eventually changes. I have had good few friends In these passing recent years of youth. I have taken the toll that life has had in place for me. I reminisce it all now, I felt so alone, still feel so alone. I remember my pain, I remember my joys, I still console myself alone. I notice how everything is not the same, I realize the happier days of my past cannot repeat. I know even if they did then I would face it all again. I forever now accept it all to be an essential part of me.
I began walking today, I was watching the sun. I have decided today To walk tomorrow And for every other day. As I walked, I had seen it's Glorious light, I then decided I will never give up My own life.
When I Sleep...... Nightmares haunt me in my sleep And chase away the pleasant dreams One by one they steal my sleep And leave me with a need to flee These mares they have an evil plan To steal the sleep from all the land And as they charge into my dreams They steal the peace I need to sleep I lay down now to feed the need To rest my eyes, I need the sleep Sandman come and storm near me I need your help To get my sleep Tempest bless me with your clock Tick and Tock Please make time stop Wind and rain and thunder strong Cease my mind and lull me along Mother Nature hear my plea Keep me safe, watch over me Give me wings to reach my dreams But keep me safe from these dangerous things The night mares They still come for me But now they find I can't be reached At last I find a peaceful sleep With all of thee protecting me Come now and stay by me Provide me with A good night's sleep But let it end at daylight's break I am alive My soul is safe
The world I knew, now seems so small As I wander through my childhood home Of faded paint and quiet rooms That holds the past within these walls Marked by time that crayons made Pictures of a wondrous place Where little hands would sit and draw Dreams that never seem to fade Till dark would come and hide their shape Then morning brought them back to me And carry me away To the world I knew that mattered most That taught me how to fly With storybooks and paper planes I learned no one could take my wings This spirits only mine That comes to life, young or old We never leave behind Unlike the walls whose silence grows Quiet to the world I knew That never fades with time Kevin D. Fix
Bring it all: video games, dollies, and Animated Sasodei doujinshi. You name it, And heck yes I can be a mean or sometimes stupid gal. I can be someone's sweetie and then break their hearts And I can be gentle By listening to birds and their tweetings. Oh and I can also be a good friend and send happy And crazy greetings... Yet sometimes I believe my pals are deceiving. But there are three gals I'll luv most. Even if they're different from me, They're sometimes so needy for my personality. I call and talk They listen as I walk around my room And then I suddenly shout like as if I'm in doom. Yeah, blend of almost everything, Those who tell the truths about me Are always receiving lies I make up To keep me and my stuff safe. They say I'm selfish, And I admit it, Yet it hurts for me to hear even a little bit People saying such things about me. Blend of everything, Some of my friends Wouldn't agree, Yet most of them don't see the curiosities My mind contains...
Love that you found someone for yourself. Hate that you're often becoming further away From me instead of anyone else... Why should I be there for others When no one is here or there for me? I have already acclaimed how lonely I am. Yet nothing else, but this same path, Is willing to change. Not that I am incapable of making friends... I just intuitively know who is genuine By the sound of their voice and words. A voice within a voice once had spoke to me. Asked for something from me... I've given it to you ever since: A loyal, close-yet-faraway bond. Same for you, same for me; That eternal fondness is there. Yet somedays it feels so scarce.
Disdain I feel. This wound may never heal. You've attempted, but Only dragged me further Into temptation of resentment. People change and So I expand my emotional range. Companionship once my devotion, Is now a post-revolution. Broken belief in friendship, I shall never believe again. For the truest Are those who cast upon me pain. I will not allow my past To be everlasting in my life. It is time to dispose Of this strife. I am forever letting go... You have no idea Just how I feel.
A spaced-out moment playing calculator games in our calculus class, returned to infancy within the boredom of checking homework
The day I met you, I at first saw you as strange. But then, later in time, I realized that it's just your disguise. I never felt so lucky Before you said you loved me. There aren't many guys in the world Who don't despise looks. Yet you are the one who seems the most true. Maybe deep down, I love you too... And I'm not sure why I stopped you from suicide. I guess I just want others to follow The guiding light that always helped me through. Although I think that, You say that I'm probably in love with you. If that is really true, Then I can't handle hearing your voice, Life as if your feelings for me Are forcing me to love you without a choice. I can't even handle such love, At least not yet. For now I just want to keep my bets of me Finding another person. And I don't find anyone like you, Then I'll become yours Just for you...
To Sea I would like to think that The big, white birds soaring Over choppy waters Or the way my camera captures A straight, bold beam of light Is a vision of sorts – A gift from you, To me. This vision would say: "Hey! I'm still around, Right here – I linger where our bodies first touched on Warm summer ground" I would like to think that You are watching us, Now – The strips of bark have become Sea worthy vessels; The children, captains of Sticks-and-Sand, They run amok, marvelously On this jutting peninsula Just as, once, you and I. I would like to think that We haven't lost touch – Not really; You are merely seeking solace in Strong, biting winds as they Blow by the dockside; That you are merely warming Wings yet too weak to Fly. I would like to believe that The caress of breath on my Shoulder is you. I turn. You are gone.
Parents are so busy and pre-occupied with their own lives, They never flinch when the doorbell rings twice, They yell for the children to open the door, Chastising them forevermore....... Yet, parents get upset when the children disappear, When they vanish into thin air, They blame everyone except themselves for not doing their due diligence, If parents really cared they wouldn't throw their children to the wolves, Who knows what lurks behind the doors, Sometimes vagrants, up to no good! If parents aren't able to handle their tasks and have responsibilty for the kids, They should seek a Mr. Belvedere whose only task would be to bow and scrape, and opening the doors so the children won't vanish or escape.
Feels limiting living in a small place... I retrace all my sorrows and joys In a region I've personally proclaimed as my home. Within my mind is only a dream of another place. Another desire and wish of mine is to be set free. I am sorry, but I must leave... My mind shall turn into a fixated set of Feelings of missing of my young prayed-for angels (My baby brother and my little sister). Farewell for a while, my friends, For I will go onto a journey (alone or not alone, doesn't matter). As I keep this decision (to be true to myself and honest of myself), I shall be able to continue my very own life with precision. So farewell and be glad for yourselves, Even when everything feels out of your own range, Please remember how I perceived life through Changings of thinking and changes of maturing mind.
Since the day I was born You were always my friend, And I'm sure we'll be friends until the end. I'm not sure what I would be doing without you... My dearest friend, We always come back together in a happy end. I have always loved you as a best friend. And I am glad I reunited with you again. When I met you, my wonderful friend, I slowly began realizing What makes a true friendship... It's not always about what me And my friend have in common, So I must always try to stick to them thick and through. But when I do stop being around Someone because I'm not being true, It seems that my bonds become deeper And the matter of the smallest differences And the past are steeper. Meaning that we don't need to walk down those steep stairs, Where we went different paths, But it seems that no matter which way I go I always end up with being one of you again. My true friends, I want to forever sustain our friendships.
Lost in a world I try so hard to remember these days the days (of yore) we're together Lost in an open Place you know they're never coming back never coming back Alone now So Alone now we're Alone now Done and Gone I'm Alone You're leaving
I've sat through countless therapy sessions Depsite contrary belief a child can experience depression for acting human they had labeled me bipolar and damaged told me having emotions was a disadvantage But I insist the crazy are truly sane how could you be rational when life's insane times passes and everything will change for better or worse the expected will be rearranged Exposed to the truth that our society is a cage you grow up accept your fate making minimum wage I saw the world for what it was at a young age ` Dreamt I'd be a writer, but knew no ink would ever fill the page Life is not measured by dollar bills or cheap thrills Nor by the number of earth's hills covered in garbage fills The American dream starts to make sense when you're tangled in that white picket fence Caught up in all the magazines like brainless chimpanzees trying to imagine a world without purpose where the delusion of god is believed by the surplus Comparing our lives without compromise the devil promises vices hastening the demise spoon fed fairtales that lead us along genius now prostituting themselves in Honk Kong Follow the light until it grows dim starve your dreams until they grow slim that dying torchlight once kept you so warm now it's flames engulf you like a swarm.
Death is only a dream, That seems like eternity, From which you wake up... And then find yourself Someplace, somewhere else. Another has taken their own life, Again these people are feeling Even more emotional strife. Once have had thoughts of doing the same… (To eventually give up on my own life…) But then I give consideration Towards other people's Thoughts and feelings… I'll give them each a lifetime's moments of me Being alive… As I go through this dark tunnel, I always strive for the light at the end. For now, those who are gone, Their spirit brighten this lantern of mine.
Life is such a Journey It's Truly a quest So many years can pass and we still wonder where we are Maybe there's an answer Maybe There's only a Question We're towards the end But we still Do Not Know So who am I? Will I ever know? I'm sure there's an answer Not just a question But how do I know That it's the truth? As an Angel Sang to Me I Ignored her Maybe what She Said Was The Answer that allowed The Answer Maybe when She Said "Just Search Stay True When it is Time to Anew And Something Rises Ask The Heart That Is where I Breathe"
When I was just young, I had only time, Hardly even friends, No love of myself It did not matter, Young and so dumb, Remembering, Had no details Never needed, Then I changed, Thinking old, But still young, Ageless So old, Rash
Kendall Daughter, sister, student and friend Daughter of Courtney and Malcolm Dyer Lover of food, television and movies Who feels hungry, depressed and lonely Who fears lions, hippos and elephants Who would like to see a giraffe, Sponge Bob Squarepants and Scooby Doo Who resides in Orlando, Florida Dyer
Playing softly thinking of your first day of school scary teacher but fun words Growing up too slow with long moments become a blur learning proceeds timeless Frustration social anxiety but independent understanding self awareness unique me Branding, marking, making your own way in life challenging forthright don't always agree The arduous years of forced study ended memories linger sad happy embarrassing even Now what do I do stand tall be something for you or find the bird inside my soul and fly Time to be free experience more love more fear on my own stepping out Playing softly thinking of life and your first day as a teacher, time to use fun words again
Plagued ebony tongue of evil spores; Invitro beings with polluted cores. Soul's lab of hope in dreamer's test tube; A puzzle solver's Rubik cube. Spirit smashed in life's dress rehearsal; Faith inside psychology's Reversal. Wounding truth upon lips spoken; within a heart, opaquely, broken. Felt and touched through words' real life; The hidden angst of heart in strife. Emotions conflict in mind's sweet shop; Laned childhood memoirs' spinning top. Down yester's avenue are audible taunts; The not so abandoned ruin, haunts. Chemical bodies infect and deceive; Equation's encouragement to bravely believe. Fears overboard in blood stream's boat; Sailed backbone ventures' antidote. © March 2013
Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands No cares, no worries just fun and play Knows that there will be other days Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands Responsibilities, homework if you please Busy, busy as little bees Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands Dances, parties, stay out late College will soon be the fate Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands College fun in the fall Just out having a ball Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands Down the isle in the dream gown Wearing her royal crown Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands Children gathered around Like mother hen's clicking sound Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands Wave good-bye, the last is gone Have started their own family homes Swiftly flows the sand Bumping other grains as it lands Empty nest, can now really rest, Here comes God's best
Their actions have their consequences, Why bother putting up my defenses? It won't make me feel better, even if I cried… But God will keep me justified. I ignore their jokes and take no action, Why should I give them the satisfaction? They may weaken my strength or injure my pride… But God will keep me justified. They never show remorse for the things they say, Why should I take offense to their ignorance anyway? They don't know how I feel, so melancholy inside… But God will keep me justified. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, I can't block it out of my mind, Their cruelty replays itself over in my head, as if it's on rewind, They make me want to disappear, I want to run and hide, But God will keep me justified. Their taunting only proves that they don't respect me, Why should I take it personally when I know it doesn't reflect me? Although I want to punish them, I just let it slide… But God will keep me justified. They got out of control this time, And now they have to pay for their crime, No longer will I let this be…my justice will not be denied… God will keep me justified They say they're sorry…I wonder if they meant it? It doesn't matter anyway…they'll still have to repent it, One day they'll have to see the truth and open their eyes wide…. Either way…God kept me justified.
I was baptized into The Anglican faith when I was a baby, Therefore I have always been "saved" Through how Yeshua (Christ) Long ago set a magnificent Example of how mankind Should be; in harmony with both His divine side and human side, Through long awaited everchange in my thoughts and feelings, Thanks to the Holy Spirit (which is in all of us). I am grateful for what I've learned in life, So far, I have gained much introspection and perception, and it is thanks to the Lord of all lords, The God of all gods For making me who I am, believe I am, think I am, feel I am, and who I was always meant to be. If God once said "I Am That I Am", then we all truly are all "God's Children". We are all equally imperfect, But also equal in potential to be like Him.
I. Jilly's laugh is somewhere between a hiccup and a sigh teeth shimmering little porcelain cups like the ones I used in Victorian doll houses when I was five perfectly glazed and rounded. II. Her late arrival like a Picaso painting brightly colored flecks of roses and blues all feet and limbs flailing simultaneously in proportion to her belly. III. Yesterday she flew over a crack in the sidewalk. We had been eating wild strawberries, her fingers were dyed with them and her blood, it fell to the sidewalk in perfect red rain drops. I think my heart stumbled in it's puddle.
What causes me grief Is also what gives me relief... A bog of tears is what makes me think It has all disappeared, My glasses fog because of the mist. This thing is what causes my woe Yet it has some truth That makes me feel so happy... It does not seem to understand me, I try to tell what''s bottled up inside And try to put it under a spell, Even if I do, I''ll go through such inner pain again & again. For without it or the other way, My soul won''t live happily Or won''t be able to change... My days will always have colours, For grey shall be in the night, Because that is when my thoughts of thou take flight... Oh it is my hate and love, It is my grief and happiness, It is both worthful And worthless... I can never decide Because the pain will always reside.
I read an old story I wrote in a note book, it was from fourth grade, I think, and it was like reading dome foriegn script. Have I really changed that much?
i shall not be able to take one step here without a kind thought on earth i shall have no navigation without a smile in memory of me i shall have no vision without the wish to be seen once again i am here and they are all there they are all there coming to meet me soon here, making this place a comfortable room
On my free period On the ash fault I lay and smell like rubber and heat Frying on the black-top It's so damn hot out here But I don't want to move Because if I do I'll have to speak Someone will ask me what's wrong 'Cause you can't just lay on the black-top and think In sleeves so long and dark With hair so dark a halo I must be burning up But no one will question until I sit up Am I sad they will ask What happened and I'll say Nothing out of the ordinary Just more of the same old things Same old pains Then they'll make me see a councilor So for now I will lay Frying on the black-top Cold burning hot and numb And mutter that I'm fine
you are the glint in my eye you are the sinew in my arm the very DNA in my cells you are my offering of time father, your actual bones bore me through childish dreams and youthful ranting angers to find as i pulled away as far as i could be myself that circles go 'round to find myself back at my beginning there with your corny jokes and light admonitions to me to be a man, not unfeeling, but gently strong, happily human as you were in yours my half-life or half-my-life is owed to all of you given as your progeny my own, my founder, my father © Goode Guy 2011-06-18 for father James M.
You know, when the sky is grey, You should go somewhere today And bring the sunshine by going for a bike ride To a friend's house. If it rains as you're riding in exhaustion and pain, Don't slow down, Cause at the end there's happiness to gain. Laughing with a friend or two, Is perfect for the things around you. Having fun will make the sun Bring a line along those clouds. Then it'll shine through. This all happens because of that mood. Friendship will always bring a rope to cheerfulness. And I truly agree, Because this often happens to me.
Given so much to others in my life... Written sincerities to my friends. Forgiveness of their mistakes and For those who once hurt me verbally. Many times I have generously given A dollar to those in need of it... No returning owe to pay, they forget, Yet I still remain generous and gracious. I'd give my life for all my friends If I could and ever have such a chance. They my friends have not been with me For as many times as they've been with each other. My life journey though Is of self-reliance... My mind is of sincerity And generosity. I give so much... Even though they rarely do the same, I continue to this strong Sense and feeling of loyalty anyway.
My brother could hibernate through anything. Even the nights of unmitigated fury that expelled itself in blasts of white, frothy spittle from the corners of father's lips. He was a cocooned worm nestled in the bed at the back of my room while mom held the cheap aluminum door, maintaining our homeostasis, shut. On the other side my father, a wounded creature Hissing, crackling, Insane. would bang until the vibrations shook my very breath. Colin never really understood being fourteen and scrubbing out the night's fury that stained the carpet in crimson ponds. The smell of a bucket of warm pink soapy water and the red that never really washed out He would not understand the game I made of it blood spot, ink blot test This one looked like a butterfly, And this one A father and daughter, And this one a bottle of pills. This boy who brought home matted and framed pictures from kindergarten Crayon colored pleasant family, crayon colored pleasant home
Inside of me, The child cries For she's scared and lonely and needs of comfort. Inside of me, The adult yells And tells the child to be strong. Inside of me, The elder laughs- She knows the way things ought to be.
I have it all here, Yet it's you that I want near. My heart still believes You to be a dear part of me. What more do I need When I already have Everything indeed? I have a dream, Yet something that first should be Redeemed would be My generosity and honesty. Bringeth me renewed feeling You have done through Your deed of befriending me. I have it all already, Though truly you are everything I have searched for, For what seems to be an eternity.
In the hills of West Virginia, at a log house he called home, Is where grandpa spent so many years, though other places he did roam. He was a country man at heart, and seemed a man before his time. He would study books for hours, yet no mountain he can't climb. He'd been a farmer, and coal miner, and a secret service agent too. He loved his bible and his garden, never once did he seem blue. Open-minded, and religious, he had views that few could see; And even though i was a youngster, he would spend much time with me. He was old, and wise, and feeble. Saw much life before he died. When i heard that he had passed away, i just hung my head and cried.
You will never get anywhere in life If you keep running away from your problems. You must stop hiding and running, Stand in front of your problem And run right through it. Then and only then is when you find happiness. Going through your problem will be painful and slow, Be strong and you'll finally get through.
Ya know what's currently happening as of this moment. The way I am channeling my own thoughts and what I am typing here... In a very positive and powerful manner. The light bulb above me, on the ceiling, All of a sudden has a rainbow circular light around it And it was flickering as if it was getting brighter! Incredible what I saw with my own eyes, By holding back my blinking tendency, I had seen proof of my new positive thinking... Why am I all of a sudden Writing these poems outta the blue. It is true that this is my own sort of talent, In a certain sense, Right now though something amazing Is happening to my thought frequencies. A-a-amazing I am currently Doing all this thinking And am so peacefully Self-believing and self-trusting, Self-realizing and self-liberating.
Those days were filled With joy and singing. Because of that; My present days are now worth living And smiling through. Remember during a storm, We've seen a rainbow Through a window That was part of a room Where we pretended to have feathers And danced around an invisible fire. Bonds are like a rainbow; The happiness that was shared Eventually fades away. Though such a bond is gone, Another rainy day goes by And the rainbow appears again. So now... I'll always remember That life is like a sea (An ocean of memories).... And even though "friend" has The word "end"... There is a "ship" in "friendship" (Which leaves and returns). I shall always remember such a metaphor...
Roy Rogers and Red Ryder rode on that black and white stage— It was the best of times, to be a kid of any age. Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy – that Durango Kid— They kept us shootin' outlaws and drinkin' milk – yes, they did! We ate up that cereal and sent away for those things, Like trick lassos, milk mugs, masks and those plastic cowboy rings. It was another time of Mix and Tim McCoy, I've heard-- When men rode horses and 'cowboy' weren't a four-letter word! They have not rode into sunsets, as they were apt to do— They're now on the mountaintops of the minds of me and you.
My swing is where I have fun and look at everyone. It's where I feel at peace and let my imagination increase. It's where I look at the sun and talk to The One Who has blessed me with many things.
My words don't exactly flow in consistency, But in the end (in something like a personal essay), They eventually all tie together. My own kind of thinking Depends on only whether I should Or really want to take things (and meanings) Out of their original context And make (turn it all into) something of mine, my own.
Keeping me ill for eleven years, Makes me wonder why for so long, Then I realize it was Your plan [for my life] all along. You are so real, I can just feel The safety when I ask You to hold me. Faith in most people is dying, Many people are crying. Wonder where You are. I don't like to believe scientists are perfectly smart (Nor do I like to believe religious leaders are righteous), Because I know that Your Power is at work. You bring others home by making them die, That way they'll never need to cry again. You keep some alive from accidents, So they can accomplish what they were put here to do. I believe You're walking us through, To the end of this World Age, To Your Revelation, To Thy Kingdom that's been longed to come.
Time flies When I daydream and write. Though I despise this place, I know without a doubt It is where I learned Every trace of my thoughts. My heart is solitary, Though is so deep, It feels as if I may never find What these feelings of mine Always dream. I write my poetry Through love, feelings And even hate. In this life I seem fated To forever be lingering Within this world With faded dreams and feelings. This state of mine Is so misleading, I must find more meaning. Time flies When I am glancing into The clear blue skies. The sun rises And my soul realizes Every day, every lifetime Is a new beginning. As I am writing, I am thinking, searching For this life's meaning.
there's a lump in my throat. a lump of all the problems i tried to swallow. to hide. There's a pain in my stomache. the pain of all the problems i tried to swallow. There's a shortness of breath- inside my lungs from the hidden lump, and the people surrounding closing in. there's a murmur in my heart from all the things i do regret to have said, and not. there's a hope in my head that sometime i'll awake from this coma, to a warm white coat, who'll tell me i'm better. the one who'll shut off the heart machine, and give me their beat to help me along. but right now visiting time's over, and all i have to talk to is the respirator.
Deepening my answers Another challenger awakes To reveal to me my shadows To then witness my mistakes Always I had listened In close proximity To self-inflicted violence To the end of harmony Casting shadows in the sunlight I was trapped within the walls Where a child then controlled me Until the buildings grew too tall My darkness took this moment Of self-deceiving fear To climb above my reason And to whisper in my ear "All shadows are connected" He showed me this is true "And whatever you've inflicted Is the dead reflection of your youth" I woke up then to realise Several centuries had passed And all within five years The walls had gone at last Deepening this vision The challenger draws breath Now walking through the mirror My shadow exerts the pain that's left
Ah, that smell of bread from Home Ec., Just can't be real to me, Because school just seems to be a part of everyone's misery, But then I realize The bread from there is as real as a bakery's. And when I'm with my friend, The fun of bugging her in the hallways Never seems to end. Then I take one more look at what school is like, I begin to admit to myself That it's not so bad, But when my mother gets mat at me About homework I stress about how hard it all seems And think that my teachers are all jerks. But I always finish it off in the end, And then the whole cycle goes around again. The truth is, I always change my mind and say My teachers are so nice that I could consider them friends, Sometimes I only pretend to like them. But what's worse then teachers Is how I see people smoke And hear their choices about drinking and parties. I stare at them and think, "They're gonna be really ugly..." 'Cause I'll never give into peer pressure, Because my only pleasures are a lot better. High school is such a big thing, That when the bell rings A rush of students go up and down the stairs. Once you get to class, Sems like the assignment you get is a pain in the ass, And it feels like the day will never end, Especially if you don't have a friend. I always want to sleep-in, but when I wake up I think school is so lame, And sometimes I sleep through the whole day. And when the sky is grey, It always seems to be trying to say That there should be no sun rays on a day at school. But then, I think through it again and believe that there will Always be good and bad things in whatever life will bring.
The Christmas lights shine while the temple bells Toll. The baby lies bloody on the bed- 'delivered'. Its dusk, a shade of grey dusk but again a dark blue Around the corner; not a sound did roll nor did light Strike and it slept. Hush baby... they will come! Among Her broken toys and impaled dolls she sleeps like the Child of time- she is black. Again, the star shined and the bells tolled and they came- all over her, They trampled and burnt her sins away. Smoke and soot and hell fire Rained everyday and she took it all in. Like the voracious petals of the Venus fly trap, those lips of hers engulfed them and stayed content. It lay in the night... At least she had the night. She was content. Slowly The saffrons, the whites and the greens entered her hollow being Day after day and she did not know where they came from. Even the one to be delivered that rested inside her grew impatient. It broke free and she lost. It was buried amidst the fanfare and Ho hum of those colors. The same colors that devoured her sins And had her delivered, and now they lie in constant wait for the Reigns to break so the stake is theirs to burn. The witch must burn. The Green must burn, the saffron must be severed and the white blackened they thought. The witch died, and so did they but not the colors. As the Child in time sleeps under every roof, so does those black eyes With glowing fangs, under the bed. Just below the flesh And the wooden bed, you can hear it breathe and crave blood And carnage. Every street, every devil's bend, every wall bears Its name. Yet it hides, kills, plunders and hides. Yet another Deliverance and another coming against the eclipsed sun. Tomorrow if a life is born I shall warn and mourn and curse The deliverance coz the colors will lie in wait under its bed. Sharp talons and itchy fingers waiting for it to blossom and Tear it up in pieces. Yes! This is our deliverance... We all shall Be delivered some day. But, I hope my child of time is colorblind And comatose- Maybe dead. For then it wont hear the evil crawling Under its bed, see them on the streets and feel them inside itself. That day will be her baptism and maybe she will wake... © Malyaban Lahiri
There, just beyond that dream. There's my life ripped at the seam. Then there's my friends, the pot-heads and dope feens. And there's a hole, in the dark; void of light; missing a soul. Glowing with ambition. Growing in shame. A blur to sight, a mentality of pain. There, just beyond what's real You'll never know just what I feel And here, are my sins…Scabs of dirt, that'll never heal. My pain has a taste, like rust and copper Like copper and rust, I steadily waste A constant reminder, of what I've lost Oh just what you'll pay for trust. Just what is the cost? The fire is in the human head. We're the reason of our falling And already fallen dead. For the "tree" is gone. We've choked her, and she was never fed. Like untamed weeds, we've sucked her dry Though we carry on, mutating our future's seeds Now look into my eyes, see what's written on my face Our true lives are gone. We're just a dying breed out of place. Here…Right here…around and above I've gone blind in my search for unconditional love So I hope you remember. I hope you can recall Yourself being the symbolic death of Peace; a fallen dove. I'm sorry for you. I'm sorry for "us." I hate that the truth leaves confusion,, and not knowing what to do There once was something here, that was of color, for lease Then rented, used, and destroyed. So I hope you're happy, PHukcers, how you've disrespected our deceased.
When I look back on all those years, I notice that almost everything has disappeared. You were my best friend, And I thought we'd be that way til the end. But thanks to my stupid mistake, I'm not sure where I should start again. I've been having dreams of you, Wondering if the meanings are true. That I love you... like a sister, Most of the time I think of you, Missing everything old about you. We used to laugh hard at things, And be together in the same classroom. But after seperating so far away, Our friendship seemed it was never meant to stay... And my foolish mistake made us far more far away. I fear that if I come to you, I'd have to explain the truth, That I never really wanted to accept you After you changed. And before, whenever someone came close to you, I felt jealous and never wanted a friendship triangle. I felt so close to you, You were other things to me besides a soul sister or good friend. Then I start to wonder if you're fine,?Without me in your life. Well there's one thing I could say, Is that I hope that some day, I come and see you and be friends again. But I don't know where to begin... If only I can apologize, I'm not sure why I stopped being friends... All I can say is that I miss you...
Down Down on Broadway Street You'll find them torn and tattered Still standing on their feet You know by lookin' they've been through fire , the by-product of mankinds ire Seeing through their eyes No one hears their crys The dust , the dust of desire has passed to pain where hearts do bleed who who has what they all need No longer daunted by the reign of pain having already drown unable to stay sane no longer children with arms out wide , because the hope hope inside has died At what point does it all go wrong, to be left so completely with no remnants of song no whisper of hope the streets, the streets are home where they dwell completely alone this seeming emptiness and space Baby baby it'll be alright where now are those voices far far and out of sight there is something missing in their night To sorrow they now surrender thousands of children no longer fight for the life that is their right I hate to say that I've been there all alone, no one to share the only youth I had known the way did come to me at last even now not completely past Ex 22:22-24 Jer 22:2-3 James 1:27 COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
Though we've been labeled the second string we will resonate the loudest. The profoundness will be heard in our voice for we will speak deep and roar the loudest. Ironic because our cries fell on your deaf ears. Because of you in sorrow we have drowned. Now it is our grandness that drowns your voice out. You wished not to stand with us and instead chose to topple us. Now it's over you where we stand. With fire in one hand and ire in the other we will show you how mistaken you are. We will no longer be the oars you used to paddle across the pond, For we've become the precious metals you will never again stumble upon. As of now your sentiments are irrelevant. For now you must be another soul walking on this earth who must learn to live with regrets. We are the strong who you've mistaken as the weak. You can't even remember us as the ones who got away. For we are the memories you cannot keep. Again and again you've plucked our strings. Like a violin we've continuously been played. You grew tired of our melodies only to find out that it was because of your hands, That our symphonies had been delayed. With sounds that become astray we continue to grow louder. Your ridicule diminishes. Your voice becomes fainter. The harmonics in our harmony continue to echo. We were looked down upon. But with our heads raised we now recognize we were the ones passed on. You've passed judgment on us but it's now we who look past you. And though our pride is what you now detest. It's excuses from your hands that we wrest. We will continue to roar. We will continue to smile We set the tone to be wild. We will continue to be the sound that causes your unrest. For we are the second string. We will resonate the loudest.
I ain't got no money, But I work my butt off, Every single day. I work so I can have a place to stay All of the time, I work to get half of your dimes, That you drop when you go down to flop. Unlike you I never have time to watch the clock. I got a degree that I don't use, Because of the negligent leaders that you choose. Unskilled labor aids the campaign. You talk about me, But you don't care to know my name. I got skills: But I have to pay the bills. I want to be like you and cruise on a yacht. I'm building what you bought. I'm putting your house on a lot. I'm scrubbing your pots. I'm working as an indentured servant. Hoping that I get what I'm deserving, But for the time being: I'm slaving, Dancing to my homemade tunes, Complaining to colleagues, who are also on their knees praying for life To get better, Singing strongly the Blue Collar Blues. written 9-5-04 while still a college studenta
All my life, I was often alone and felt alone... But now I'm only beginning To realize and see That plan You made for me. It's the path the independence, It's the lonely road to self-reliance, The dark moments for me To break through. Now I only realize That I'm forever in a Pattern of destiny... I can feel it, I can just tell What kind of spell I am in. My friends come and go, Yet in the stream of time At certain moments Each of one eventually Returns to me. Now I can see What kind of life You've given me... It's filled with Patterns of destiny.
If Aiming For Beauty Pretty, Is Nice But Plain Vanity Is A Venal-Vice Inner Beauty: Is A Necessity Outer Beauty: (Maybe) Superficiality Outer Beauty: May Impress Memory But Inner Beauty: Lasts An Eternity Now, As A Teen I Did Preen Too Much Esteem Oldest, Sister Seen … So, As A Teen, I Was Told Advice To Shape- Mold Words: Worthy-Gold Listen: Behold … "You Are Pretty, Yes It's True But Just Wait A Minute or Maybe Two All In Time and Life's View Will Come Someone … Prettier Than You So, Don't Be A Victim-in-Error Like The Queen, due to Snow White and A Mirror Of Course, There'll Be Somebody Fairer So, Don't Be A Silly-Comparer … … 'Cause, The Prettiest Person Is Ugly To Someone And The Ugliest Person Looks Good To Somebody, Hon … Lovely, Is As Lovely Do … Be A Portrait and Not Just Surface-Cute Be A Shame, If Someone Spends Time With You And Sees, Ain't Nothing Else, Or Nothin' New 'Cause I've Seen People Who Were 'Knock-Outs' ! … That is, Until They Opened Their Mouths And Revealed Hostility In Hearts Made Attraction-Desirability … Depart See: Mean and Envy And A Barb-Wire Tongue And Harm and Dumb … Starts When Young So, Strive To Be Kind A Gentle Heart-Smile Clean and Sweet And Your Own-Love-Style … Also Godly Fear And Inner Beauty Will Appear Your Outer Beauty Will Be Clear …" … My Stunning Sister, I Still Hear … "Beauty … Is In The Eye Of The Beholder" Especially True … As We Grow Older (I'm Remembering Jenny ... I'm Remembering)
I've been soul searching my entire life, Looking for some meaning and a clue that I could piece together some kind of philosophy, But all I've found is emptiness. Everything has crumbled around me like a sand castle and no one's there to help repair it. I've lived in shattered independence, but like a naked child I'm cold and alone. I feel the judging stares surround me, analyzing my every action, never Considering the pain I've suffered that haunts me. I'm late to find the answer, so I'm stuck asking the question.
Inside the forest of tall teak trees Far from the clamor of the town. At the foot of the green mountain Where a stream was flowing down. Sitting on a piece of rock, And looking at the flow of water. I was listening to its music, Enjoying the beauty of the nature. The serenity and silence was lost As some kids of a school picnic party, Sneaked into the stream in sheer delight And made it muddy and dirty. A boy pushed the baby from behind. She got wet and cried. He then asked her out of fear "How could it be dried?" The headmistress when shouted at them They looked each other for a while. And rushed out of the water Hand in hand, exchanging a silly smile. I looked back at the stream. The water was already calm and clean. It'd washed off the dirt out of her heart For the flow was serene and divine.
Nothing else But secrets between all Of who we are... Thy dreams of a different love Found within the envisions of Betrayal, and dream of I and A proclaimation of sending someone to their maker. Seemingly unwilling, To give me thy trust... Never have I spoken Of secrets that had Once left you broken, Only those relevant enough Are whom I white-lyingly tell, Yet not all secrets are Ever revealed... Trust me, otherwise My mind shall not stop Aching and echoing of the lies Which once separated me And my feelings away From you...
Children of the upper crust upon the earth........... that must be us! They draw a circle on the ground, so they can dance the moon around, and then they draw another one, so they can promenade the sun. Put lightning bugs in mason jars, so they can twinkle like the stars. Why do you always come around to moralize and fuss and frown? "Because I have no inner child I'm just a parent,always riled, When I see children having fun," But it's party time the work is done! They made a barrel full of tea, with jujubes for you and me. They even brought a phonograph the wind up kind to make you laugh. but you have never laughed out loud, you wear your silence like a shroud a shroud of pure maturity no inner child could hope to free. But there's a tickle potion dear, I think they put it in your ear. It takes you back to one or two, when someone stole the child from you. So don't look now ,but you may find, the little girl inside your mind.
I said I put my past behind me, But sometimes it still haunts me, Repeating itself All those thoughts come back, And I begin to go off track. I know I said I was stronger, But somehow it's a lie But I know I'll be able to get by, Sometimes I need to cry, I may wish to die... But that's not my final decision, Somehow I'll realize those bad thoughts are just illusions, Sometimes though, they are completely true, But deep down I know, That there are people who will help me get through. My emotions are always fleeting, The next time you see me depressed, You'll later see me all happy. But deep down I am sad about something, It will never go away, but I am always fighting it, Continuously shredding this saddness down to bits.
Please ignore my tears, Because there's always Myself I have. Sorry if I'm rude, I apologize for Letting myself hide such pain. I'll eventually feel better, Shall be calm. I can't help but miss my friends.. Can't fight back nostalgia… I often even look too far ahead. Feelings of anxiety Lingers within me… So many reasons and excuses I can use to remain silent, And to explain. In the end though, No one will truly understand. So I'll remain reliant Upon myself. Will try not to depend On anyone else.
"And remember D.ick and Jane books and the first word you learned – the biggest one of all – LOOK"
It's funny, how the first precious gift you've given me Had coincided with a certain song I keep hearing. I always started dreaming Of seeing you again, After I made our friendship disappear for two years. I went from crying tears of sadness To tears of gladness. The skies and the seas are always my true blues, Seas that were as deep as me missing you, And the sky Is where the gift that came from you Flew away. It came back to me spiritually And it's given me my old strength again. My memories of me and you Shall never end, Because I know, that no matter where I go, My blue bird of happiness will always Show me the way back To where we last left track of each other. Now I truly feel that we are best friends for real. Seems like we'll be friends forever, If we are not Then I will always keep my most prized treasures. Because you were one of my bestest friends. Thank you, my friend For my blue bird of happiness.
Resulting from the purest love, sparkling bundle of joy A perfect gift from up above this healthy baby boy Opened my eyes felt safe and warm right from the very start Loved family became the norm, foundations of my heart As I grew the joy we shared became my main desire Trials and tribulations bared was something to admire Proud man I am today for that I thank you very much A soulmate now the aim to pass a love as great as such Greatest moment of my life, the ring slipped on my finger "I now pronounce you man and wife", these words forever linger Continuous stipulation meant her dreams had been achieved A day of jubilation when we found she had conceived Longed for this day since I was little, the day of my child's birth Our livelihood became brittle, a complicated girth 50/50 chance, saved her to try again in future but unforgiveness gained became my everlasting torture
"Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear," My ol' grand pap used to day. When I came up shy when braidin' hair From my ol' dun horse or bay. It was just his way of tellin' me That I come up a bit short, In some endeavor I could not see And did not care for a snort! I did not quite know what grand pap meant 'Bout those spurs I did not have— I thought it just some talkin' ill spent To heal my young wounds like salve. But on that sad day my grand pap died, I knew the truth of his words— He gave me those silver spurs and cried As I heard the sound of birds. "Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear," My grand pap said on that day, "So wear them proudly and do not care What some fool folks just might say." And though those spurs are ol' and tarnished, I wear them with all my pride— 'Cause grand pap told the truth unvarnished On the final day he died. "Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear"— Those words stick now in their way— "I got some mighty fine spurs to wear"— My son will wear them some day.
Invisible Door Sometime one day somewhere one when Maybe Friday or September two thousand and ten Or nineteen sixty five Someday I'm not too sure It must've been then I stepped somehow Or miss-stepped someway And through and into the invisible box I didn't realise it at the time I couldn't see it or when And where ever I went I moved inside and with it with me We moved and were together The invisible box and me And in my sleep with my dreams While waking Slowly I so slowly I slowly vanished Inside the invisible box Slowly so very, very slowly My thought became quiet More words less than complex And mouthing silence I slipped from the mornings From the mirror And wandered nonentity Through the toy town late at night streets And my heart became more secret As did my language So my eyes became more veiled And recognised no one Steadily surely disappearing into nothing The …….. ness of something inside the invisible box And time passes in the invisible box The years drift and life continues A daily invisible and hourly incognito So ………………………. ? Now ………………………? Who am I ? Where am I ? Though I know exactly these things It makes no difference As I continue existence Inside the invisible box Am I happy ? Am I sad ? Are my hands searching for the invisible door Of the invisible box ? But I think though I am not sure It takes another hand Someone else's hand To open the invisible door of the invisible box For a long, long time now nothing has entered And nothing leaves A series of moments Seen through a window or is it a T.V. screen Though I think Though I'm not sure I remember everything Funny but I can't seem to recall just when it was Someday one time one where some when Maybe it was Tuesday or February two thousand and twenty Or maybe even nineteen eighty nine I must have miss-stepped some way And walked into the invisible box And time runs out and nothing you do Goes beyond repeating A slow steady sickness as the world forgets me Inside the invisible box The invisible box Inside the invisible box I am nobody
i had nothing but love and hope from the very start, but depravity began slowly filling the thing i once called a heart, murder has become my most desired form of art, it will affect my conscience none when i hack your body apart. a loving child filled with the darkness no man should ever dare wish to seek, in the cold blood soaked arms of insanity held is the tormented mind of a freak. watch him become the very monstrosity he always prayed he never would, the monstrosity that arose from the ashes of an infernal childhood; forgive me father for i did the best that i could.
Personally, my path in life Is a lonely one towards self-reliance... My heart's inner guidamce Is what will keep me alive (And what has kept me alive)... My desire for freedom And also for peace within my mind... Let my strength increase.
A crippled devout is bedridden None in his family to earn His innocent, cherub children Are dying of starvation! With pouted lips they ask 'O! relenting Lord hark! To us why are you so merciless?' Immutably He replies, '—Because you are faithless!! 'The extortionist though he commits sin, Prays me from his heart within!!' Fie! Fie!! Relentless Lord!!! Compassionate, clement Death! Be not proud!!
Beautiful and kind She does not know Reasons for hurting As she rapidly grows I remember the little tomboy Dressed in tees and tennis shoes Vowing she'd never give into Societal prissy views But give in she did As the child became a teen Astounding beauty with a purpose Still trying to remain unseen My niece and my Goddaughter A special place already set aside For my little boisterous tomboy Inside my heart you'll forever reside © Stacy Lynn Stiles
A pleasant meadow with rows of stones Not of Nature but chiseled by men Each one has a story, a meaning Thousands of stones sharing their stories Each one lovingly kissed with floral lips Yet I easily find that one I seek Its story speaks to me as no other can I kneel I pray I sit I talk I listen I swear I hear My grandfather calling my name I clean his stone and bid him farewell As I return to the world I wonder Is he proud in Heaven Of the man whose tears now flow?
Swallows framed on an evening sky Thatch roofs singing a lullaby Children's eyes set catch the stars Old folk tales for tomorrow's scars It was all there then And perhaps is happening there again The village around the log fire seated Children in old ring games repeated Since the first wattle hut With lime-daubed stone gut This is my Knoxwood, my memory The page printed with the tapestry Twittering like swallows in the air Lamenting my exile and my despair.
To the Build-A-Bear Store With granny in tow Do you remember? What was you four? Say you remember Only one or two Well maybe three Still sitting upon Granny's knee When we opened The door to The place Why it was a Virtual zoo Animals wasting To be filled Waiting to be glued(sewn) First you Had to put a Heart from The very start Then you Pressed the Button and Filled the Animal with Stuffing Then she Sewed him Shut But he had No clothes You got To pick them Out from 500 different ones You picked A camoflauged Paratroopers Outfit just For your Beautiful Green frog Which you Named Turtle I remember Too
Sullen and defensive (what's it to you?) quietly disappearing what difference does it make? [tiny] and inferior beaten into believing the propaganda from [un]reliable sources Her heart knew [stuck in survival mode] nothing but self loathing and self preservation. To her (unknowing) credit. Strength. Regarded as a "loose canon" by proxy and so it went. Scarred. A miracle. In God's eyes.
Feeling a bit nostalgic lately, my daughter is only nine for now, but how quickly it has gone by. I Blinked by Amy Swanson When I first brought you home so wondrous to behold little fingers, precious toes tiny bundle of perfection And then I blinked. Nature through your eyes Each day is a surprise the time so quickly flies you gaze at life with wonder And then I blinked. With baby steps you now explore we'll never go back to before you've opened up life's door and stepped on through And then I blinked. First day of school came much too fast Your toddler days I knew would pass I wonder if my heart is glass I feel it start to break And then I blinked. Packed away your little toys you're now concerned with friends, and boys and walk with such a graceful poise - baby steps no more, you run so quickly. And then I blinked. Getting ready, that first date can't we slow things down, please wait. I hear echoes of yesterday - the years have gone by much too rapidly. And then... I blinked.
Free me from the desecrated life that I live each day. Torment me not anymore for my essence is awake. She yearns to be free, not of the mind so trapped. I have forfeited true happiness though there is joy. Defile not the ones partnered in this strife. To carry one within is just a notion of destruction. These days and nights are bewildering with mystery. Who would ask for this, no one of their free will? No one deserves the dissection of the mind this way. Though talent may be a gift disposed upon them. What is the price or the payment for a barren soul? She calls in the darkness, claws at other memories. Which is the truth and which a lie, can we know. A mind that is active in so many different styles. An eye for beauty that comes from this insider, An ear for the whispers of laughter so tormented, Scent of distraction that delivers each to continue. Touching of other souls is the key of both survivors. Love and tenderness is the endurance before death. I have felt these things in the past this is just a poem that shows the pain and uncertainty that I have and i am sure others have had similar feelings and thoughts, only slightly different.
do you know how many times you & i've died? i don't think you do let's start with . . . i fell out, fell far, fell hard from a tree you dropped off the monkey-bars i stepped into the invitation of a stranger's car you grabbed a wire. . . bare i dove, with confidence, in shallow water you took a dare i stayed too long on a railway track you found a hill and 'jack & jill'ed' your back in fact both you & i. . . at the same time tried something new i went green, you turned out blue i remember too crossing against the light looked left, should've looked right it's amazing to me, that we're able to say no matter how many times you & i've died 'we live another day'
he sits in back of the class The jocks throw paper airplanes near the chump's little rear Picking his nose-how gross!! Laughter ensues They all like to make fun of him the most Teacher wants him to wear a dunce hat Making sport of him is where the good times are at NOSE PICKER -SS GRABBER FOUR-EYED FREAK and more The girlies all think he's a PERV Especially big breasted Linda She has the nerve Billy Bully throws his books Eyeing Melvin with threatening looks John-boy the janitor makes him eat some worm 20 slimy ones to make the runt really squirm NO NERDS DOWN THIS HALL so says the dope dealers-6ft5inches tall Poor Mel of the Dweeb sect He hasn't somebody who could like him as yet Some days are for the clique heirarchy Others can be cruel to the meek and timid LIFE IS NOT ALWAYS THAT FAIR,IS IT??
How I wonder about all these things sometimes, About this, about that, and those little rhymes. Why men fight, only to die, Leaving all their families with tears in each eye. The baby crying, I can hear the scream, A solution is easily found or so it would seem. Choices the young ones make, Don't blame them it is only a mistake. How many chances? Does the beautiful lady see the eyes of all the men as she dances? What is to come of us all? Will we be asking that after we O.D. in a club bathroom stall? Did we, or should I say I, just let it all casually fade away? I and myself, to me per sway. Death is not a question, this we all know, Until it comes it is a forbidden show. How shall we then realize the answer? The problem grows inside and its name is Cancer. I don't know what to say anymore, Looking around I pace the floor. The thoughts in my mind are beginning to multiply. Into a catatonic state, I am now shy. The answers I seek. Ending looking bleak. Before this all comes to its end, Your mind I beg you, to me lend. Take these inquiries to a smarter being. One who has more insight than what you are capable of seeing. Maybe then we can get what I want to find, The answers to my questions in that brilliant mind. Who am I kidding and why would they care? I'm just a kid sitting on his front porch in a busted lawn chair.
Cold window pane Or prison bars For Susan they are the same Her imagination runs free As she is trapped inside But outside the dream She can hear echoes of autumn Leaves chattering Rustling amidst dancing feet So many children laughing Her heart racing Asking Why is that not me Yet Susan feels nothing Except her breath on the glass As reality comes between She struggles to understand Her only playmate her hands Rocking her dreams to sleep Cold window pane Or steel chair For Susan they are the same Her imagination runs free As her legs are strapped inside But outside the dream
Star light Start bright You look down On me tonight And oft I've wondered How it would be If I were you And you were me. Would you wish On me tonight If I shined Sparkling and bright Or would you choose To go indoors And not make wishes Anymore?
Strange is it to me that we all grew up in the same Ghetto where I came from. Yet, we can't see it's not the white man we are trying to beat? Take a look around you and tell me if you see what I see... No white man, broke that glass in your street? No white man, made that brother get drunk or high off weed? No white man, made that brother steal your TV? No white man, made that brother drop out of school? No white man, made that brother put that gun to someone's head? The picture I see, is so plain to me, it's just you and me? You're the one's turning this place into this Ghetto you see... So, you tired of the ghetto and you want to get out? I think not? Because you're all too busy blaming the white man for all your own faults.
Brother, don't spend lifetimes alone sitting staring at electrified screens or lost adrift in a sea of remorse hours spent transient blown around like clouds, for no one knows where you, or I, or our parents' parents came from, nor where resides the final resting place of the soul but that we live, and live for but little a meal, a warm bed, a fridge, a television a car, a home, acceptance, joy, love memories such as these condense and pack ever more tightly to your chest as time wears on, 'til by the end all is returned to nothingness but know that no other man is you, no other life is your own; may you forge ahead bold through your holy life, and blaze a trail for lesser men to follow.
The first thing I saw when I awoke In the beach were an embraced shark's eyes Where the waves broken in pieces into the long distance Flowing underneath the sweet sand And marking in every step I made in life other than me. In every effort of my body and soul Yelling out as if it were leaving a finger, an arm, a leg As much as they begun to create a second of me; A reviewing of my separated self until I cannot yet conceive the ability of being me. How I flung myself in that shark's eyes Different from which I have witnessed in my young dream; And the appeal that reborn from my last holding heart An abyss filled with you. A caption of being Nothing else than a receiver away from me.
Little voice evokes long ago young Child an innocent 13 Comic books made him very clean He was the World at Play Simplistic and Charming Looking beyond there Yesterday An eye toward the cloud And a Whisper to that Jesus Kid "Come and play beside me for a moment Ease my trembling shoulder While the World that you've made has gotten so much colder" Memories still here So is that child's voice from years before No more or less important Those Baseball cards are still behind that door Waiting for Come Back Children to return home and play again once more
Where I was born - Gumaca, Quezon a significant place, a town suffused with history. It's almost at the tail-end that long stretch of Quezon. A lot of coconut trees the source of many creations – like oil, wine, vinegar, and many others common in Tagalog region. Houses in the mainland, were razed by fire a number of times. antiquated buildings with Spanish influence in architecture they're already gone, just a vivid mem'ry. As a child growing – in a cul-de-sac road fear hovered and made us stay home with unconventional crowds in our neighborhood. We knew each other we formed relationship as friends and caring neighbors. The church and municipal hall a rendezvous for sacred celebrations, cultural shows and other functions; a linkage to unity and appreciation. Our schools – both public and Catholic, made a great contribution, along with religious devotions in our educational formation. My childhood classmates, friends and acquaintances reminded me of our good, ole days; a wealth of experience to cherish. We used to play, laugh aloud and hang out at our place, with my younger sisters, we would play 'hide and seek.' We used to fight too, scream and yell to one another, when our game seemed to turn out like a tight competition – we'd really shout and yell. Oh, my childhood days! those refractions of the past enable me to seek constantly God's presence in my own journey.
first date Just because I ate you paid doesn't mean I lay I open I preen Take me home fast as you can I'm too young your'e too much a man I want to lay in my mama's bed I want to watch the news I want to hear how people died that's not as scary as you Kim 1st put on my mama's site
Cleanliness I absolutatingly fear... For I only luv the mess I see, It makes me believe I am not alone In this sight of a messed-up and lonely room. It'sh scaring me seeing purified spirit With all th-this cleaned up vision. Mirrors reflect my cleaned room... In the darkness, within the shadows, Are haunting red, yellow, and green: Lights which are known as eyes According to my mind... Not as ordinary as others may seem... For I am rather filled with secret eccentricity, I loves seeing people electrified when in Sight of my real personality: Hyper eccentricity!
In comparison, to my past, from till today, the latest things, as a kid, for me, wasn't such. Yet still, while I was a kid, growing up, the love displayed, from parents, meant, so much. In reference, to back then, to now, just to survive, to a kid, was a reluctant, way to live. Yet still, while I was a kid, growing up, the sacrifice, made, from parents, shown the length, they would give. In honor of, ever since, to beyond, in their dedication, of raising me, in doing right, and being strong. I now realize, since becoming an adult, I have a new found respect, and gratitude, for my parents, for putting up, with me, for this long.
bees buzzing along butterflies fluttering by humming birds sipping the sweet nectar from the abundance of fragrant flowers as I sit on my porch on a warm summer day young boys playing catch little girls jumping rope older girls turning double dutch skate boarders whizzing pass bikers cycling down the street as I sit on my porch on a warm summer day shooting skelly tops playing marbles pick-up sticks and jacks hopscotch on the sidewalk roller skating down the driveway touch football on front lawns as I sit on my porch on a warm summer day folks old and young frolicking in the cool water of the sprinkler neighbors tending to their gardens and shrubbery kids selling homemade lemonade from a homemade stand on the corner stick ball in the city streets red light, green light, one, two, three Miss Mary Mack, pitty pat one giant step, may I Simon says remembering the lazy, hazy days of my youth as I sit on my porch on a warm summer day
I dig my toes into the sand, breathe the air of my fatherland, salt air holds a sense of healing, too long, I've waited for this feeling. Now I'm on a mountainside, snowflakes drifting in my eyes, the air is crisp, the view is grand, too long, I've missed my motherland. My life's a droll dichotomy, half my heart across the sea, Southern born, yet Alpine bred, white cross on a flag of red. Divided always, never whole, two homelands tear apart my soul, a Southern girl, also half-Swiss, can never find the place I fit. Back and forth 'cross oceans roam, no place ever feels like home, in my dreams, my german's fluent, all my life's been incongruent.
My bags are packed Memories strike me at the door Abused and scorned Love supposedly from the heart ripped and torn Heartaches and headaches Give and take Nights of laying awake Praying to God to keep me safe all for my sake Love lost and nothing else gained Swinging of the hands and swearing of the mouth causing nothing but pain Happiness was taken away from me I couldn't be the kid I always wanted to be I felt alone and all by myself Without God, there was me and no one else These walls tell so much It hurts to the depth of my soul with just one touch This was something I kept bottled in All because I didn't want to be judged by my friends It was because I was ashamed Why was I when I wasn' t the one to blame? This will always be the broken part of my heart That will always tear me down and apart This has caused me to not know how love feels and suppose to be Cause this has done nothing but permanently damage me Finally I'm moving out No more hiding what these scars are about To speak the truth, I was just another teen statistic But I pray that no other child has to go through it Now free, I can go out and share my story About the damage that was brought on to me I no longer have to lay at night afraid to go to sleep Being scared of what may be done to me Free at last Free at last Thank God Almighty, I am free at last!!!!
The man a self proclaimed gay One day was talking to Sling Blade The man who was gay Declared,"I believe people are under estimating you, Sling Blade. I believe that behind that exterior You are very deep thinker on the interior What were you thinking just now Please tell me lets just have a pow wow Come on Sling Blade tell me your thoughts What's going on inside I haven't bought That exterior facade' Tell me what words you've played What was you thinking just now". Sling Blade says, "Well how I like mustard with these French Fried Potates wow" "No! no! not that Sling Blade." Said the man that was gay "Before that what thoughts in your head" Sling Blade answered, "Not a thing instead." The man that was gay Looked at him twice and did say "Oh!" (Movie called "Sling Blade" has really been stuck in my mind. Sling Blade spent years in a mental institution for the murder of his mother and her lover. Actually"Sling Blade" was an abused child that had the traits of a psychopath probably because of the abuse. But I gathered that he was a deep thinker but kept it hidden and was unable to connect emotionally because of the abuse."
The traffic flies by At a fast-paced clip They say on a warm day It's a nice little trip The county came in And smoothed out the road Past the porch where we sat And learned of "The Code" In my mind I still see him Though he is long gone And I still hear the words To his old Cowboy songs He spoke of the cow trails And called them by name Said the dust all around us Was one and the same. He told us the stories Of the days that were past We looked to the future Swore we'd make them last We rode our stick ponies And we rounded up strays And we knew we'd be Cowboys For all of our days. The buildings stand empty A testimony to time But they're filled with the dreams That I still call mine You can blacktop a road But they will always be there Those dust covered memories That hang in the air. They've paved the dirt road That rolls by the farm Where we laughed and played Cowboy In the fields and the barn And we learned where we came from And who we could be And the dust of that dirt road Is still part of me.
little boy blue out stirring the coop out in the woods allergic to something this one thing little red never knew chicken soup tell me shes just sick get me the hunter little boy blue the cheaptrick to outsmart the wolf the wolf is just another sheep dejavous to have this dance side step the hay fever and little boy blue will play a tune for you deja vous have we not been here before howling together at this moon little bit of red rum for grandma and we will be back at square one thinking we will bark at the moon just deja vous so cute to see you in that bonnet brown eye red dog smacking those lips little bit of red rum for grandma the dog know what we are saying slide six and lets scope it out little boy blue play us a tune and we will howl at the moon one last time like a deja vous while red gets the soup for grandma grandma has hey fever just leave a trail of crumbs so we can track our steps take it down from the past step by step childhood horrors all we have left something to say of the chimney sweep with a hundred ways to die all i can do to save the wolf hungry enough to eat you but with enough food in my hand to keep it at bay
A large face watched me Bordered by shimmering trees Along lit dirt roads.
toys with thread smiles- wide open plastic eyes- cotton blood- curled in the arms of unknowns. play with it- lay, don't stay with it- crave its compliant comfort- outgrow it- don't know it at all. sewn to be soft & ready- picked from the shelf so steady- warmed to sleep unalone- torn, unravelled, thrown. toys- loved without language- without reason- short lived nonlives- unclosable wide open eyes- disposable- no goodbye.
Reasons. So you say your past has found you It don't want to let you go. Come and walk with me awhile there's something you should know. You see him standing over there? Do you recall you broke his heart? The lesson that he learned was to make a brand new start. See the girl with freckles you bullied her in school. She learned to rise above it she turned out pretty cool. See the one you thought you used to help you make it through. What it is you failed to see is they were using you. Every road you ever traveled to make it through a season. Each and every thing you've done all happened for a reason. The fact that you are sorry you needn't bear it any longer. Each mistake along lifes way makes someone even stronger. You made amends along the way you've owned up to the shame. The memories that haunt you don't even know your name. So take the guilt you harbor and put it on a shelf. There's no future in the past it's time to forgive yourself. Edwin C Hofert
Welcome to the softened moon, sweet fresh one. The most gracious gift I have now received. A new baby, a fresh beauty budling. Wrapped in ecstatic delight delivered by the Goddess herself. Into my arms to be nurtured, to seek the sky, to dream with orchids. Unwrapped by life, a slow turning proceeds. I am helpless, for I know growth. Beauty and Pain, all at once. I am learning to let go as you grow, slowly.. May the world be ever worthy of my child.
I was told yesterday That someone else will come and forever stay At first, I was a little confused Because I didn't understand the news A few months later, I looked at my mother And thought to myself, 'what's happening to her?' They tell me I can't do this or that with her We don't have fun together anymore, I wish she'd get better Two more months went by Then she was rushed to the hospital with pain and I wasn't told why My dad put me in the car and drove so fast Finally, we reached the hospital at last My dad ran and he ran and he ran He went to the back while I sat with family members and waited patiently not knowing what's at hand After two days of me and dad being alone She was back home This time with someone else And I realize that it will no longer be me by myself In the house they come with a little baby They bypass me and I thought to myself, 'what about me?' Days have gone by And so many people have come, but passed me by I no longer have fun with my mom and dad So I go in my room to be alone and sad The next day, grandma and grandpa came to see the baby Again, I was bypassed But this time I came out and asked "What about me?" Everyone was taken by surprise I repeated myself and sat there and cried They all came running to comfort me And explained to me about the baby And most of all that they didn't forget about me
I can see her, staring back, through the mirror. She looks just like me. I touch her, but she is cold and hard. She smiles when i smile, and cries with me, only her world is silent, and mine filled with noise. I used to think she wanted to be like me, but now, I want to be her- she is stronger than me. Often I've wondered if mirrors can reflect not only what is outside, but inside as well, for I fear I would see a monster, staring back at me. I cannot hurt her, though I have tried she doesn't feel any pain, and I can scream, and call her names for hours on end, until I collapse a lifeless puppet on the floor, but still she follows me, everywhere
Shattered doll tattered and torn Tossed aside and not played with anymore. You ragged material compared to me. You must be begging to be free. Used up and worn Missing buttons galore. You probably wonder what you existence is for. You cotton is sticking out. Your stitching is coming out. No one plays with you anymore. A doll so poor. You are now thrown away. No one wants to play. Ragged tattered shattered doll. You are agonized with the fall. You are me! I finally see. I stand tall, As a ragged tattered shattered doll.
She was once a child ~ happy bright green eyes laughing . . . chasing bugs in summer lamplight tumbled in grasses fresh cut cowboy hat, scabby knees ponytails taken by the wind .... laughing . . . a n d She was once a child ~ berry brown suntanned shoulders freckled back begging dot-to-dot lonely . . . lizards, horny toads and daddy.long.legs share her closet secret playmates in little jars and boxes lonely . . . a n d She was once a child ~ lightning rides on cracks of thunder fractured . . . knowing it comes on billowing curtains screaming . . . shattered splintered from this world when once she was a child ~
To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday, when I heard you was gonna represent Tom at the trial and share the widow's homelier pottage bowed 'til your bonnet brushed the floor far below you saw the bricks on the floor mostly these are seen as food labels stooped and raised your knees, because of laziness the dust of the city backward down your back so thin like ducks. And softly said, "Dear heart, how like you this?" (This poem was created using snippets from other poems.)
Shh… Shuttered the stifling air Confining her innocence Clinging to a teddy bear Shh… Ruffled the blanket of lies Concealing her trembling The lids to her cries Shh… Echoed the corners of the room Beneath the glowing ceiling Of a neon moon Shh… Creaked the rays of flight Unlocking morning Pardoning night Jesus, she whispered Lowering her weary head Do you know why my father Comes to my bed
Maryanne Magilicutty…. Loved to play with Silly Putty Growing up she wouldn't share Her friends were sad…she didn't care~ She rolled it up into balls Bounced it up and down the halls Everyone saw her frown… When it bounced right out of town~ She chased it as far as she could go An impossible feat, she was feeling low She lost the putty she loved so fair Her friends knew but did not care~ There is one thing she should have done Which was…to share her putty fun~ Her friends only wished she'd share… Her Greedy ways were most unfair Karma took her putty away Bouncing out of sight that day I guess you know NOW what to do When someone wants to play with you~
Grimacing with eyes closed And staggering to stand On cranky legs and feet With numb prickings shooting Like a thousand points of light
It was many and many year ago In the kingdom of Granny you are so great After a day of shopping, playing on this very date There was a hugh yard sale Just beside the paved road That's where you spied him The yellow bear with no clothes There the lady that loved him Said her husband told her he had to go Said he needs a home with lovi'n A little boy for him to hold So a little boy could be bold It was a close relationship But good things come to end The little boy grew up Somehow became a man Leavi'n Yellow Bear collecti'n Dust and cling'n to years of sand
Into the Night As I drift into a peaceful night slumber.. Sounds owned by the night, enter my chamber. Crickets chirp a tune to share.. From the corners of the dusk; filling the night air. The moon peers through the window, sprawling to the floor. Making slight shadows, for creating a frightening folklore. I hear little feet scurrying across the room. It was a mouse, I think; escaping his foredoom. Leaves from branches brush across the window screen. The night was proving to be more then it seemed. Moths flutter aloft a lighted street post. A slight breeze ascends the curtains, simulating a ghost! In the near distance, came the sound of a drummer. Then out of nowhere, a flash splits the darkness asunder! Rain patters down steadily on the worn rooftop. Then the night went placid leaving a picturesque backdrop. The smell of the rain renders me soporific. Slipping into a dream, I ponder on tomorrow nights frolics!
A cry for help a barren breeze a body ravished lifeless in a womb of desolate brush Stacy was six years old she loved rainbow sherbet the color purple her mother's voice But Stacy is dead as are her hopes and dreams forever vanquished by the bloody hand of iniquity
The cabin was on a dirt road we rode our bikes for miles it seemed always knowing where to go remember when Kevin got creamed? Over the land filled with rocks we'd kick the dust up in the air wearing our shoes and socks living without a care. We would go to the lake each day running to get there fast all day lond we'd play the time just seemed to last. Across the lake you could see all the oak surrounding the park we'd always stay passed three not leaving 'till it was dark. The water was crystal clear we swam all day long sometimes we even saw deer sat around and sang songs. From the corner of our spot where we'd jump unafraid, the dock was sturdy and hot Oh! the games that we played. Running back and forth for hours between the lake and the stream sometimes there were showers Doug would always make us scream. The days it was colder we'd pick berries bush by bush our fingers got purple and older Regan's bowl filled with mush. The nights we'd spend together with cinnamon toast and wishes not caring about the weather only about the Hershey Kisses. I miss the times we sewed pulling the threads too tight the patience that you showed to teach me how to do it right. I thank the Lord each day for leaving you here for us the memories will forever stay Thank you for your love.
this is a one way street, kid. why are you out so late? you dont know what your sayin', kid. tell me what i am saying. tell me what i am saying. i drowned in the ocean i was swallowed by the sea for miles and miles thats all i could see steal. dont steal. steal. dont steal. still, i'll should have learned to swim.
I would rather have people Wanting to get to know me Instead of me Getting to know them first. I would rather have people Show some respect to my "Weird" interests. I would rather remain single Even when amongst couples. Independent I am and will always be So I am fine without a "special other". Personally I would rather Just be myself And different from everyone else...
With all the noise and hurry— We start to wonder why Those things that are most precious Are gifts you cannot buy? The first snow of the season— A grandchild's happy grin— The miracle of child birth— Memories of back when. First love under summer trees— Watching a rippling stream— A good day's work that's finished— Achieving your life's dream. Giving a hand to old friends— Breathing in those flowers— Doing the things that are right— Watching clouds for hours. Keeping your dearest vows— A bright morning sunrise— Fulfilling your promises— Keeping love in your eyes. Relishing a child's laughter: Faces on Christmas morn— Honoring your commitments And the day Christ was born. With all the noise and hurry— We start to wonder why Those things that are most precious Are gifts you cannot buy?
Bought into all I could see As though it could help me hide Until a witness directed me Into the judge's dead designs The whispers will come for me Still can't escape the signs When the victim directs his plea It is I that must then deny Broken and raised in pain Does nothing demand it gone? And now there's nowhere to put the blame Is there nowhere I can belong? The judge now demands my name As though I am the one that wronged That dying child again As he wrote out his silent songs This jury of disease Planting all I was And what will come from the seed? Another reason to remain lost
I am here But they don't see Mr. Officer You're talking of me You say tell a teacher, A friend or you But don't you know What happens if I do I have a family to protect Don't you see I am here You are talking of me No one has a right To do what you're saying This isn't a game That I am here playing If it happens to me Then others will be safer I take it on myself To be the protector I am only seven This choice I have made My silence is spoken My life I will trade I have a younger sister It is her I protect If it happens to me Then her he will neglect I have a mom She's happy you see I will keep my little secret It hurts no one but me
I'm not the "Scum from Swartz Creek". I'm not the "Geek from Gaines". I'm not the "Brat from Byron", but the stigma still remains. I've worn so many labels and I've lived up to them all. Refuse to be on display. I just can't take the fall. If what you see is ugly, or just not what you'd be, try to see how important it is that you be you and I be me. I'm not the Scum from Swartz Creek. I'm not the Geek from Gaines. I'm not the Brat from Byron, but the stigma still remains.
He never came around much, and never stayed too long. Carried a vial of whiskey in a paper sack, sang a song. But this day was special, my heart was so alive. I carried a sack too, with candy, today I'm five. He had said, "Come on son, let's go to town, get a treat." Joy filled my little being. I felt all of ten feet. Wrapped me a suck in my sack, cherry, my favorite kind. As he slugged away on his bag, I slued away on mine. My little legs, nearly running, three steps to his one. But the sun was shining, we were together, father and son. He spoke little that I could understand. About dreams lost. Said I should follow the rainbow, forget the cost. He said "life is short, pleasures few, so have a good time." We followed the path through the woods, his hand in mine. We walked beside the railroad track, till the sun dipped low. How far? Five or six miles- couldn't tell, didn't know. My short legs were aching, but I never complained. For in the distance, I could hear the approaching train. He sat me on a rack and said, "Let's rest a spell." He was getting tired too, from his walk, I could tell. As the clamor of the train grew louder, I became excited. "I'll see the train up real close", I said delighted. It grew louder and louder, till it was all I could hear. I laughed aloud, looked at pop. On his face was a tear. He jumped, ran to the passing train, lunged into an open door. I screamed and cried "Don't go!", but never saw him anymore. His crumbled bag lay on the ground, a memory at my feet. He had said, "Lets go to town, get a treat." I threw my bag on the ground, all the sweets spilled out. At five it was only candy, but it was my life no doubt. Belief, trust, hope, faith, love, burst forth onto the ground. I sat there on my rock and cried, till the sun went down. Then with a tear stained face i turned to follow the railroad track Knowing all the while, there was a rainbow, Somewhere behind my back.
Lying here I awaken to the old familiar dream As if not there, just an interloper it might seem I watch a life I no longer recognize yet it seems so real I envision innocence of the child I see begin to kneel Whispering a prayer from lips trembling with humility Love emanates from faith filled words of her reality Help me father to understand I do not know what I have done Mommy is so angry I want so badly just to run I do not want to anger her so please let me see why I will do all I can to help but please don't let me cry I need to be a good girl so she will not hate me you see I want to make mommy happy then maybe she'll love me Years have gone and still this dream comes back once again I know now it wasn't me but I didn't know that then Fear grips me still if anger is about to rear its ugly head No child deserves to live life with that awful sense of dread Help is there for every one that wants it to be I know as I was that little girl praying God would protect me.
So, what do you have to tell me, Oh little girl, my little girl? Oh what do you have to tell me that brings wholeness to our world? --- I was not born all filled with fear, I was not born for hate I did not arrive upon this world too early or too late --- Oh, little girl, you need not cry, Your sadness is from years gone by Take heart, my sweet and gentle one at last our freedom has begun For you're still here, you did not die I am you and you are I
Age a'int nothing but a way of counting up how many times you've been around the sun
I wake up to you every morning, your face I can see. I'd like to share a happy moment, but it will never be. Our times together could have been fun. We would play ball, laugh and run. As the years went by, I'd go to school. I played many sports, thinking of you. I got a job and worked very hard to save my money and buy a car. I took you for a ride and as we cruised together, I thought of how much fun we could have had, but no, not ever. It was all a dream I guess I had. Someone to be here that I could call Dad.
A slender black spot On my bedroom door at night Became a crawler. Around the carport, Up and down the hall peeking, The lightning man ran. Hideous tree men... Shadows like bad guys reaching... Monsters imagined.
A cherub child, Akin to a flower bud, Is born crippled, An inscrutable prank of God!
I was never one of those "desirable" kinds. Never will be. And I'm okay with that. But being 14 years old Stuffing padding down my shirt And smearing big sister's makeup across my face Just to get some 19 year old to stuff his tongue down my throat Is what it took. Standing In front of the mirror Knowing I was about to get caught Cause trouble In the most unladylike of ways. Wipe the mascara from under your Undeveloped Eyes And cheeks, Girlie 'Cause it's okay to be afraid That's what men are s'posed to do to ya I told myself And at the age of 14 I laid on my mother's bed With my sister's tiny skirt Giant heels Fake breasts Staring at the cover of some (skinny girl, poofy hair, sensual lips) O v e r d o n e Magazine that was stolen from a doctors' office Cause we couldn't afford to buy 'em It's ironic now I had to steal the very thing that made me Feel like I had to succumb to the will of a Superior Frat boy Into the flames of this party I walked Teetering on the heels I'd never before used Licking my lips and trying to come off like I was dumb enough to love you I'd never had alcohol Couldn't even pronounce half the names Of the things boys were downing One By One And in that room of too many people With too much skin And too many noises And too many illegal things being smoked and snorted and eaten I ran to you Because those things were what you did In college As a grown up And I wasn't one So I ran I can pretend that my eyes didn't widen When you whispered into my poor, innocent ears When your hand reached up my sister's skirt And you didn't know. "I'm 16" I would say Screaming "No" in my head "Look past me Look harder Please" And as the moment that your infinite world took over mine I realized that as much as I loved it As much as I was Grown up I wasn't. I went home that night Wiped the sex from my face The drugs from my body The alcohol from my veins And I was happy. Happy in the sense That I knew I did something that I wanted to ...But would later regret... Happy that I allowed myself to make decisions ...Even though they were dumb... Happy that I knew I'd have to lie for the rest of my life. 14.
Suddenly! Frogs are jumping On my arms and legs From a fast fist Of knuckles!
Light leavens leaden doors. Genealogies of genocide are lost in long night rides through thistled trees, dark reunions of distant blood. Kinships are recounted, mantras murmured of summer savory and sorrel flaxseed like scars on wrists, a sparrow grass of needles. We are immutable, terra cotta with wild glints of sea-flecked eyes-- a mask of freedom, a final submission. Origami moths mime legends in tallow lights, stigmata their small dyings with rites of regeneration: bleeding dim faiths, sealing silent sins with the infection of sky. We become insane shadows, cloistered cousins of a dark, moist marrow mythological as opaque men in pale pearled sheets, chiaroscuro faces written in a white rage of worms.
My childhood was moments of open opportunity When we showed our spirit so uninhibited An age that assured our souls truly existed Childhood was when I would feel and express All that I now hide and captures me frightened Moments when I expressed love generously Unashamed of whom I was or what I might become A place where others cared about my comportment When there was truth before promises were cast A time when you held me to you in love unrelenting Here was the time of emotions untamed discovery Building in power as they fracture and burst forth Washing in consequence all those who surrounded me It was exhilaration in the venture of each dawning day Or the peace of silence shared on a campfire beach In my youth I burned with an all-encompassing passion Consuming me whole and rending me unscarred fear My childhood was all that I allowed it to become When my heart was untainted and evil existed elsewhere When I was seeing only what I chose to see It was eternal Now that it has faded to bits of memory held fondly Once childhood has passed it is departed I can only capture its essence momentarily Then it fades as my fingers try to touch it
Wouldn't it be funny If you could escape the part Where he stood before you and told you What a piece of 'rubbish' you are And where you started to believe you were. Wouldn't it be funny If you could escape the part Where he punched you Then another slap Before persuading himself You'd caused your bloody nose. Wouldn't it be funny If you could escape the part Where he stood before you with a knife Told you slowly and clearly How he would take your life. Wouldn't it be funny If you could escape the part Where you dreaded every second of every day Never certain how he would turn Would he be loving or how much would it hurt? Wouldn't it be funny If you could escape the past That you could love and trust Without the haunting echoes Of every moments he done. Wouldn't it be funny If you could laugh in the face of all you lost Wouldn't it be funny If you could escape what happened cost Where your mind could be free of that part.
As the child rolled through a field of flowers he spotted a butterfly flittering towards the sky and thought he might grab the thing, sprout wings and let the beauty carry him to heaven he jumped and stretched out his little arms but the insect had floated out of reach and with a thud he fell back to the soil, sobbing to the sun. But he had to try.
One blinding flash Then Darkness surrounds me And Then the Boom Noises that would go unnoticed any other night Echo through the hall And grow and come to life They grow limbs and manes And claws and teeth And a blood lust… But it's just my cat. I've lost my mind. Burglars materialize Because it's that sort of night I know it's impractical People, regardless of occupation don't materialize And this weather only suits them in the movies And then Killers Materialize For this I blame Grimsley Graham and the book he assigned to us last year A book I read on a night like this People, regardless of occupation, do not materialize And killing for laughs is impractical And where could they hide my body on a night like this? Why do I do this every time? I hate it when the power goes out.
It is a thing of wonder, this fish, Missouri channel cat nearly four feet long, wet pewter worn with water. Father holds it up for the box camera, muscles balled beneath green polo shirt, sweat spreading slowly like vast continents. This is one that didn't escape, whiskered face smooth gray as a hog's head bringing back old stories of catfish big as men lying hidden on river's floor, waiting their turn to grin, dangle cigarettes from niches of mouths, click cameras, capture us as trophies and mere men.
blue i once knew you saw you behind eyes glassed by rage- or maybe lust, i wouldn't know. green the shiny sheen melting down my porcelain face- disgraced. red storms, gasps of pumping blood pissing on the god of love. purple rose clusters on the flesh buttons pressed in sequence- (inside, outside) gold streams of light contrasting with the stains left by the night.
under the pines we dug deep down to find our way to Shadow Town the taste of fear was on my tongue I tried to sing the song we sung when slipping through the mystery wood last winter when you said we should hide and seek the silver fox the one that you kept in a box beneath the ancient cuspidore that grandma hid behind the door the smell of peppermint and wine split the night and I was nine you were ten or seventeen or maybe somewhere in between we excavated thirty days surrounded by a purple haze that rose from egos torn apart we dug a hole in someone's heart who is it now?I heard you ask who's interfering with our task? your mother and the love you lost we've broken down the walls of frost the Shadow Town is made of ice we've cracked the shell,we've done it twice! all is melting ,running wild! I think you are an awful child to dig and dig and cause such pain now close this mess back up again those who live in Shadow Town prefer the cool dark underground the light of day ,the burning rays defrosting ,breaking down our ways you'll show our neighbors,tell your friends and this is how our secret ends so we can't dig here anymore I think I'll just return to four and y ougo back to six or five and we'll just try to stay alive.
He was waiting, sitting by the lake watching the gray water ripple and flow, the slow wind pushing it steadily away from the shore. A sign on a tree by the bank warned in black and red: NO SWIMMING SWIMMING CAN CAUSE ILLNESS. His mind drifted back to that hot summer day when, after work, his dad first took him swimming, to the creek on the way to Mammoth, just a short ride from home. The creek ran through a field behind the Klayka's house and barn and they had to chase the cows out of the stream when they got there. He watched his father strip down to his shorts, the dark green Army ones, and he did the same, just leaving their clothes in piles on the bank above the creek. His father dove in and came up backwards near the opposite side, sliding slow and smooth and easy through the brown water. He ran, holding his nose, mouth clamped shut, his right arm flailing the air, and jumped, feet hitting the mucky bottom, and sprang up, head and shoulders popping out of the water, water flying all around him, light exploding in his eyes. The water was warm but it felt good there in the stream with his father that hot summer day.
Rummaging through the past In boxes closed by time Opening all your memories Of life left behind Smiles cross your lips Tears hide behind your eyes Faded memories come flooding back Of life left behind Photographs taken Moments made eternal Letters written Thoughts inscribed in journals Thinking back Remembering the good and the bad Thinking back On life that you once had
I never knew a little boy could be as sweet as you. I always wondered how a son could be anything but "Blue". You've shown me how to love something different than a girl. You've shown me just what joy can be. You've really changed my world. I say "The sky is blue." You say "I wonder why?" I say "Maybe someday you'll find out." You say "I'm sure I'll try!" I know you're bound for greatness. I read it on your face. I hope you know how special you are just because you're Chase.
We nod into gentleness like genocide sleep in flourishing sanity through elms sifting epitaphs. Our sheen of silence on white muslin offers up old uncles like hedge apples useless seeds of grieving trees. I cannot remember my father ever saying he loved me. There is no time for monologues, soft slurs of alabaster days burnished on a tusk of sky. Tenderly, the testicular moon rises in night, iridescent, opulent, laid open like a wound.
Blissful it is to be young when the world is new for when we are old we see things we should have never knew
Have you seen what I've seen Going out and ending up in the middle of this terrible scene I have nowhere to run Because everywhere I turn, I hear the shot of a gun I run and I run but have nowhere to hide Because there's a body lying around every turn The body is just another victim of a life denied Caught up in the game and their life got burned The body's lying there with blood pulling from each and every way There I'm left standing scared, scarred, and with nothing to say I'm tired of living within these walls The walls of the life of worrying is my life going to be over before God calls I wish all of this would soon be over Because this is a life that I don't love I know my mom also wishes this to be over Because this isn't the life she dreamed of This is the life no child should be living in Seeing people get killed over some colors If I stay here, this is how my life will end And I don't plan to kill and not give a care about the life of others If heaven was a mile away I'll leave with the clothes on my back The shoes on my feet will help walk away And there will be no turning back No more dead bodies No more waking up at night from hearing gun shots No more thugs and gangstas scaring me No more being afraid of walking home praying that the next person is me not No more being afraid of staring down the barrel of a gun No more being afraid of being a child and having fun I want to be in a place where there's less crying Where I can't see no more bodies laying dying I want to be in a place where there's no pain No feelings of frightness of being slained I want to be free Free to wear all the colors my mother brought me
Geez! Since when did my feet reach so far from my nose when I stretch out on the bed?