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Kire Nov 2017
Can I be honest?
I don't want to be bitter.
But what can I do when the person you look to for guidance is never there when you need them?
All your life.
I want to forgive.
I have been trying.
And yet the father figure was always lacking when it came to the father part.
He was always gone, always working.
I tried to grow close.
Tried to bond.
It was working to some small extent.
Then the divorce came.
All of what I thought I knew came crumbling down.
I'm still not even sure what happened.
The relationship between a father and son grew ever distant.
Now, don't get me wrong.
I am not saying my life has been the worst.
And I am certainly not saying that my life has been the best.
But I am trying so hard not to be bitter.
I just need it to be taken all away.
Lord, just take it all away.
After all that he has put me through, you would think that he would try to reconcile with me.
No.
You would be wrong.
He forces me to spend time with his new family.
Expecting me to get along nice and dandy with them.
News flash.
I hate them.
I don't want to always be bitter towards them all.
Especially my father.
But it would be a bit easier if he even tried to understand.
You know?
This poem has only captured a fraction of the story, and the feelings involved. It is just one of those things that only the person who has gone through it can truly feel all of the emotions, and the decisions, while to an outsider they are simple, easy, choices.
Kire Nov 2017
A simple box, nothing noticeable about it. Not many will even try to look inside it.
Box.
Very few know what is inside.
Puzzle box.
But when opened, there is a distraction.
Jack in the box.
There is a disguise on that jack that hides the true face, creating a facade for what's inside.
Mask.
When you take of that mask, there is something else that also distracts. It babbles on and on.
Chatterbox.
The few who get past that will see the real inside.
A quiet introvert, with the masks of an extrovert, hiding what's inside.
Trying out a new style, not quite sure about it.
Kire Oct 2017
I am smart.
There is no questioning that I get things easier than others.
I am proficient in math and reading.
I understand science and logic.
Yet at the same time I am horribly stupid.
Social situations are a battlefield in which I am on the losing side.
I am horribly blunt in conversations.
Saying the wrong things at the wrong time.
But I am improving.
Ever so slightly.
So when the conversation moves to subjects that I am adept in, I try so hard to say the right things.
I try hard not to brag.
I try to be humble.
But sometimes it slips out.
I feel horrible.
Sometimes I see the look on their face.
That one look.
Sometimes they hide it.
They say "nice", or "great job".
I try.
But sometimes I fail.
So for ever more, I shall try.
Always improving.
Hoping to be humble.
Kire Oct 2017
The greatest demonstration of freedom in the history of the nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation.

A great beacon light of hope.

Seared in the flames of withering justice.

One hundred years later, the ***** still is not free.

We’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check.

This note was the promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white, men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned.

Now is the time to make real promises of democracy.

Now is the time to make injustice a reality for all of God’s children.

There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the ***** is granted his citizen rights.

In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations.

You have been veterans of creative suffering.

Go back, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

I say to you today, even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.

A deeply rooted american dream.

A dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream where little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the context of their character.

I have a dream today!

That little black boys and girls, will be able to join hands with little white boys and girls as brothers and sisters.

I have a dream today!

The rough places will be plain and the crooked places will be made straight, “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope.

This is the faith I go back with.

With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children --- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics --- will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old ***** spiritual, “Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last.”
Found poems are where you take pieces of a work, and putting them together without changing anything. Also called blackout poetry. School project.
Kire Oct 2017
Every day.
Going to the same place,
Doing the same thing.
There is no escape,
Until that One Day.
Over and over I repeat the same actions,
Never deviating.
Always for that One Day.
Then on that One Day,
I will have accomplished what this world has forced upon me,
All to do the thing that I love.
Then.
After all that hard work.
I do that thing that I love.
Day in.
Day out.
The same thing.
Over and over.
The thing that I love.
Never deviating.
Not once straying from the routine.
Until.
I die.
Then.
In that final moment.
It truly begins.
The Next Life.
The True Reward.
For the Monotony of Life.
Free Form
Kire Oct 2017
This fire inside me,
Burning to be let out.
I dampen the flame,
Hiding it from view.
No one can find this inferno,
That I am so desperate to quench.
Yet it is still being fed,
By the very hand that created it.
My efforts are futile,
For there is no escape.
The scarlet glow is ever present,
Always at the edge of my vision.
Flames constantly licking at my brain,
Impossible to ignore.
The fire constantly singeing my thoughts,
Tainting every memory.
What this fire is sated by is beyond my reach,
For there is a great chasm between.
This fire inside me.
My first poem. Inspired by a deep secret.

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