Library - It is a world full of books
All are interested, whether they are engineers, peons or cooks
Books of all genre you will find
It never fails to attract one's mind
But please remember the Golden Rule
Please be silent; it isn't a sin
Never be violent or else you'll disgrace your kith and kin
You may even make the librarian your friend
And he/she will provide you with books of the latest trend
Harry Potter, The Godfather and The Da Vinci Code
Not that keen? Well you could always try The Princess and the Toad
Books are for everyone; age doesn't matter
Idiot box or reading? I'd rather choose the latter
Whether you want science or fiction
The Library is a world of addiction
Once you pick up a book you will get glued
You'll shout yourself hoarse if anyone dares to intrude
You'll be reading it in class, the toilet or the bus
And when the teacher confiscates it you'll create a big fuss
Oh, Miss please! Just one more page!
It's the climax part between the pirate and the sage
We should thank Gutenberg for inventing the press and bestowing upon us this boon
Else we'd all still be stick watching cartoon!
Seldom am I so direct,
Like Wayne, Parker, Kent,
I prefer my subterfuge.
But these words are penned
by the penultimate,
and often callous wordjockey
As I've said, I'm seldom
more than the sum
of my company kept
And today, I find
twice toward pride,
once of consequence.
Que sera sera.
I'm lead like a horse
who had to drink -
or perhaps imbibe?
your softly streaming sentences,
words which kicked like a mule.
Remember, I was hoarse,
On that parchment, I find these words:
I am a cause...
Truth at last, truth at last,
Thank God almighty...
...you know the rest.
I stand on this principle -
that I cannot stand at all
your words the salve,
my words the therapy.
Now, waxing on
toward the triumphant,
If you are the cause and the casualty,
then each daily account
of what might be made martyrdom
should be cannon.
Am I eliciting allusions and assumptions?
Inadvertently, but then precariously so.
So the pieces fall,
the causality, literary
the eventuality, progressive.
Aye, we are naught but what
we are made of by others.
So each concussive consonant chips and chisels
off the ol' block.
To a good Mister John Henry,
I don't see how u can talk to someone off and on for over2 yrs and follow their every keystroke and see what and who they talk to and listen to them thru the speakers on the computer and if I didn't cover the camera would be able to see us also.....and then see theyre on a dating site and either u had a profile already or made one up to meet me. That is a lot of following and listening and reading their online happenings...only to meet them from the dating site. Which how u even knew that id date you is odd unless u were just hoping. I realized that when my brother died last year.....that was you I was talking to wasn't it??? Do you know how special that is to me and my heart? I didn't have anyone to help ,me thru that and you were there. I wanted to thank you so very much. I don't see how u can do all these tracings of my actions and talk to me at the most horrific time of my life thus far and then not tell me that its you..... I will never under stand why u didn't tell me.... I so wished you would have cus the things would have turned out so much different. I just thought u were some dude who was a cheating pig....and wasn't thinking too serious about anythg cus I knew u wont leave "her". that's why I never asked u too and or even brought it up cus ive seen the shows where they say they'll leave but never do so why ask? but if id had known u were frozen heart and soule shawn I would have looked at things differently. I would have taken things and rearranged them to fit into my life better. I owe the person or man who talked to me and helped me get thru each day when john died a lot..... cus If it wasn't for u I don't think id been ok. Also If id known you were the holder of my heart and would have told me things instead of not saying much....it would have ended up in the way u wanted it to be. Not this way where I will be sad and pissed yet upset for not knowing u were the one who makes me happy cus to me you are perfect and perfect for me as well... God I miss u more then u will ever know,,, I wish I could hug and kiss u.... and sit and talk ....but its not gonna happen and it just makes me want to cry but I keep getting headaches when I cry....so I don't like to.... Im so grateful that I was with u for the year and a half we spent together.....wish it would have lasted for ever though instead...cus I wont ever stop wanting u....ILY!!!
it shines just as i stare at it
calling my name
its just a silver piece of iron
I am who I am because of that
I am what I am because of that
thank you for destroying me
when I least needed it
thank you for making me
who i am today
Lost and insecure
please be the only thing that stays
We first met two years ago.
I was jealous that my best friend
had chosen you over me.
I hated you for drawing her to you
like Florida draws in tropical storms.
I slowly began to let go of my jealousy
and became friends with you.
I didn't realize that you had the same dreams as I did,
or that we would end up singing duets together on our way to class.
I didn't realize that you were the Flynn to my Rapunzel,
until now, miles apart and absent for six months.
Thank you for making me feel good about myself
and sharing your voice with me.
I can't wait until we can sing together again.
In late 1888, a Wells Fargo stage
Was relieved of its freight-
A strongbox, taken from its hold,
held thousands of dollars in coins of gold.
The brigands had a master plan,
To bury that box,
sit, and wait-
Then dig it up at a later date.
They found a spot on rock-hard ground-
Where it would lie, safe and sound,
So they sank it in a three foot hole-
to hide that box with coins of gold.
But what they didn’t realize,
that in the distance, sat a pair of eyes-
That had watched the whole event unfold-
and watched, as they buried that chest with gold.
Late that night, under a pale, lantern, light-
a shovel's blade split those rocks-
and the hole was relieved-
of that strongbox.
William Nelson Riddle, owned that property-
And he lived with a basic philosophy-
“Since it was found, on my ground-
I guess it belongs to me.”
“Nelson” died in ’28, at age of 85-
He never said what happened to,
Or if, that chest survived-
And the "Legend of Riddle’s Gold"came alive.
As time passed, the story grew-
each year, a bit more grand-
That Nelson took that strongbox-
And hid it elsewhere on his land
Greed is one of the “seven sins”-
"Everybody loses, and nobody wins"-
But the “want” for gold is a mighty strong thirst-
So his kin set out for a “family search.”
At morning’s dawn, the kinfolk came-
To search for gold, fortune, and fame-
They came with shovels, spades, and hoes-
And some “TNT”, so the story goes.
With disregard for propriety,
they descended upon the property-
Without a map, without a plan-
They spread out to search his land.
Now, the rabbits and the coyotes,
and the gophers(one or two)-
Gathered on a little knoll,
To have a better view.
They knew what was going to happen-
It was just a matter of time-
When the dew had disappeared,
And the morning sun had reached it’s prime
They dug a hole here, and dug over there-
The morning sun was getting hot-
and everywhere they looked –
Was for naught.
Now, it isn't very clear
as who said what, to who-
But it must have been insult'n-
to start that ballyhoo.
There was push'n and shove'n
and calling names galore!
Yell'n and cuss'n
using words you ain't heard before!
And that was just the men-folk-
the women got in it too-
screaming heard, from north to south-
Those words should never come, from a ladies mouth.
Fists being swung, shovels slung!
dust was kicked up in a ball-
nothing could be more entertaining-
than watching a family free-for-all!
Then suddenly, it came to a stop !
as quick as it began-
They gathered up all their gear-
and departed Nelson's land.
This is where the story ends-
all I know is what I'm told,
From my daddy, for he'd been sitting,
atop that little knoll.
(This is how I would like to have it end)
Somewhere in the "high above"-
at a table, two people sat-
One, wearing suit and tie-
and Nelson, with his beard and hat.
"Nelson, a lot of folks have you to thank,
for bringing that strongbox to the bank-
you saved a lot of folks their homes and farms."
Nelson, from his chair, arose-
standing erect, and proud-
Stroked his beard, then tweaked his nose,
smiled, and faded into the clouds.
(thanks folks for your patience)
Copyright September 16-2013 Richard Riddle
Fifty-two is the number found between fifty-one and fifty-three. Fifty-two will never be the sum of any proper divisors of any number. Fifty-two is the international dialing code for Mexico. Fifty-two is the atomic number of Tellurium. There are fifty-two weeks in a year. Fifty-two white keys on a piano. Fifty-two cards are in a deck. And fifty-two years, have led up to this day, and to this paper that you’re holding. This paper in your hands is a letter to you expressing my gratitude. Though it hardly represents a fraction of it. I want to thank you for being an example of what it means to really care for people. Even in anger, you are never unkind. Thank you for the clothes on my back and the roof over my head. Thank you for educating and molding and nurturing me. For loving me through every stupid lie and every too-short skirt I tried to wear to church. Thank you for the coffee-dates you took me on when I was too young to understand that you were showing me how a man is supposed to treat me. Thank you for loving my mother in such a way that I know exactly what to look for in my own husband someday. Thank you for every hug and every kiss and every “I’m proud of you” that built me up and reassured me constantly that I was loved. Thank you for telling me I was smart. Thank you for wrapping me up in that hug that day I tripped and fell and cried because I was embarrassed. Thank you for every birthday and every Christmas and every light-hearted excursion that resulted in more toys I didn’t need. Thank you for your encouragement and constant support. Thank you for every basketball game and every school play you came to. Thank you for always being present. Thank you for holding my hand in public places in spite of the assumptions strangers always made due to the difference in our skin tones. Thank you for never treating me differently than any of my siblings even though I am not biologically yours. I may not share your DNA, but I am a testament to your love. There is no other father I could ever imagine any of my memories being with. There is no other father I want to walk me down the aisle.
There is no other father I would rather have.
This is not a poem. This is not a letter. This is not really much of anything, for that matter. I hope you'll continue reading because it kind of helps knowing that someone somewhere out there is reading what I'm going to say next. I just hope you, my dear reader can benefit from my story.
It's merely 3.41AM and I am feeling empty. It's not the kind of emptiness that overwhelms you in tsunamis of water, neither is it splashes of water. It just didn't seem to have a place, it wasn't really anywhere, it was kinda just there. Haunting me.
I had just finished my O level examinations, and where I come from, it's one of the most major exams in my life. It determined my future. So like any other schooling teenager in this country, I studied for it. Not just the kind of studying where you listen in class or read the textbook and do your homework. The kind of study where I could go on without sleep for days or taking shot after shot of expresso just to keep myself going or regurgitating word for word an entire essay. All because I knew how important this was to me and my family and my future. Every day of the week was dedicated towards memorizing, every minute of the day was devoted towards practicing, and every second of the minute was committed towards reading. Basically, every millisecond was crucial. And this was something I abided by religiously. But despite my efforts, I was still struggling. I simply couldn't do well. And when you put your heart and soul into something and it just doesn't go how it's supposed to, you get really broken, destroyed. You never know what went wrong and you question many things about yourself and you start running in circles, thinking and digging. The failure I was faced with consumed me with defeatism and self hate. I broke down more often than I should as the days to my exam drew closer, and I grew more anxious and scared. So god damn scared of the future.
Bear with me, please.
Anyway, the week of my exams came quickly. Despite my efforts to slow down time, time had done just the opposite. It was the most painful and suffocating weeks of my life. And although I am one to say that lightly, this easily took the crown. I have never, ever in my life felt this close off the ledge. And there were many times were I have came very close off the ledge. My exams lasted for around 3 weeks, and each morning I had to have at least a triple shot expresso and each night I before I went to sleep, there would be these images and thoughts telling me that I didn't deserved to sleep and I shouldn't even think about it. But when I did catch some sleep, the constant fears in my day had took over my nights. I would always dream about failing the exam, or being late for the exam, or forgetting to bring something to the exam, or killing myself before the exam. It was impossibly horrible and I could actually feel my soul getting depleted by the minute. Like the 'me' in my body was slipping away and there would soon be nothing harboring my body. I often find myself crying to sleep, and waking up in tears. I couldn't stand being so weak and vulnerable, but I felt absolutely defenseless against everything around me. Even the ones that loved me couldn't make me feel human, I felt like I was already dead and my body was still alive. I felt like I was constantly suffocating and nobody could see it. Each day felt so purposeless, ironically. (It being my exams week) Waking up each and every day was draining and having to face my eminent fate was painful. A physical kind of pain where you felt lightheaded and spinning but yet caged and choked. It's hard to describe.
So, it isn't hard to tell that I wasn't in the right state of mind to take my exams. I just dragged myself through those past couple of weeks, doing what I could. Each breath felt labored and each thought in my head wore me down greatly. I broke down frequently before my papers, and there would always be this couple of schoolmates who say things like "You'll do fine, stop worrying." Or "Just do your best. Whatever will be, will be." My parents would even try to tell me to take it easy and "We'll be proud as long as you've tried your best." I know that they mean well. But no, you don't understand. I have worked too fucking long and too fucking hard to watch it all slip away from me just like that. It isn't just some national exam I have to study for, it was my godforsaken passport for the future. All that I have done for this exam, all that I have forsaken, all that I have gone through was for myself. It was the dedication of every ounce of strength that I had so that I could let myself believe that hope existed. And I had just watched it being snatched away from me, right before my own sunken in, swollen eyes. And it hurt like hell knowing that I've tried my best for it, and it is a reflection of what I've worked for. Nobody's going to look at C's and D's and see the reflection of an "overnight mugger", they'll see what comes to mind first: a lazy, complacent teen. And as the saying goes, "The lie, if repeated a hundred times, becomes the truth." All my hard work will be forgotten. And it will be like it never existed before.
Maybe some might think that all this is stupid. All this I go through for one exam, I know many of my schoolmates think that way. But the complex feelings that I experience for this exam isn't just because of my future. My life depends more than it should on this exam because it will prove to me that I am not a failure and I am not as stupid as I think I am. I want to know where my best truly is and where I stand. Because I have never worked for anything in my life but this exam has been the great exception. It was the key driving force of my life, it was what wore me down and spurred me on at the same time. I don't want people to tell me that I am capable and that I am smart, because I will never believe you. I need this exam to show me that I am capable and I am smart. I want to believe it too.
So I lie in bed at 4.17AM now feeling so afraid of the future. And I used to be the kid that depended on the prospect of a better day. I have yet to meet my impending doom, and if you are wondering, I collect my results next year in January. So now, I am lost and alone. And empty.
Thank you if you've read this far, I just hope that you, my dear reader, if you've ever felt useless, or not good enough or you're just hurting, know that you are not alone and there is someone that knows how you feel. I would tell you to be strong, but only you can do that for yourself. Just hang in there.
we've both been down
we've both been
and it is hella nice to know
i have someone to go to
one who knows
who's been there
who is there
who wouldn't judge
who wouldn't laugh
your embrace is the safest place
for wiping my tears
for kissing my wounds
for being a home
i'll always be a home to you.
I am taking a few weeks' hiatus from the Internet. Partially to see if I can, and partially to focus on some other things in my life. Thank you all for reading my work so frequently, and thank those of you who comment as well. I will check in from time to time to read the things my fellow Pens have to write, but I shan't be active like I usually am.