If I give you love
what will I get in return?
will it be acknowledged?
or will it be but spurned?
If I offer my love
will you be mine forever?
or will you laugh at me
and say to me   - not ever.
Am I just a fool in love?
head over heels and blind?
silly and sheepish, blushing
not knowing what's in my mind?
I stand on the steps of happiness
worried, lest I fall
falling at your feet
all curled up in a ball.
Columbus took a chance
and by God - he did all right
I cannot leave you now
without putting up a fight.
I smiled and said I love you
my voice began to crack
but your eyes lit up I swear
as you smiled at me right back!

Mass shootings of morality
Guns make the man
Massacre happily
Ignorance leading the blind
Another casualty
Johnny has issues
He’s got an AR15
Arm everyone!
(EUREKA!!!)
Because more guns are just what we need!!!!!
Who gives a **** about Johnny and his mental instability
He’s got a gun!
It’s semi-automatic
That’s all he’ll ever need
Semi-automatic
Everyone will bleed
A few hundred rounds
He kills responsibly
A few hundred rounds
Watch as the children bleed
Just another day in America
How many more guns do we need?

46 years
What do you get
Your way past old
Your pants don’t seem to fit
Your always cold
Like day old bread
Your beginning to mold
Broken Hips
Brittle Bones
46 years
**** that’s old

"I hope to go just like my father did...
the final falling into aleep.
There is no need to carry on and weep."

She chases red-haired children 'round the floor...
awake, responsive, dreaming...
O2 low.
She falls into the air, a bruise to show-
swears she will not do that anymore.

She's addicted to the pump that gives her breath-
totally aware of her impending death...
(does she know I would take it if I could?)

Her lonely days in springtime haze,
window-watching birds...
in black and red, the records kept
of her final words.

A daughter, corporation-owned,
fear from far away...
one reduced to part-time job,
surviving day to day.

My sister/crutch, to whom I clutch
as I limp through the mess...
my lover and an angel
who guide me through the stress...

"You'll wake one morning to find me dead",
words to me, tonight, she said...

I wake all night and hit the light
to watch her chest rise and fall.

(Does she know I would take it if I could..?)

Leather boots perched on a rail,
and not a speck of dust is showing.
A cigarette between the lips,
but there's no ember glowing.
A redhawk circles overhead,
but all I hear is chickens crowing...
All was then and all is lost. You're clinging to the final showing...

Number One and number Two were banished into cyberspace.
And further down the line the one who envied to usurp the space.

I was sitting on the Mighty Mountain. I watched the Wishanabes go
marching through the lowly valley,
following row by row.
But that was then and this is now.
It doesn't matter anyhow;
your fleeting sense of stolen fame.
You have lost your "toughest game".

Digging bones and brushing dirt,
abandoned in your lonely hurt...
a forgotten name, forgotten face
lost within cyberspace.


22022022 © Winnie Carolina