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 May 2019 Ivan Brooks Sr
Seema
The lies that lie within me
Has tortured my soul
And renched my body
Drenching in my own sludge
Where coming back
Seems too hard
The smile that stretches
Across my face
Is another lie
Inside, its another me crying
To breakthrough from
The unworthy bonds
That promise alot
And laugh away
Like nothing ever mattered
As tho, my existence
Is meaningless
How much will I cry?
How much will I subdue?
How much will I endure?
Before, I let go off this life
Merging with the fear
And losing self control
Over the past years
Living like a hog
Rooted to the reclined
Unmotion state of speaking
How am I going to emerge?
How will I continue this life?
How will I matter to anyone?
In this selfish world
My existence, will not matter
For even, if I disappear
My existence, will not matter...


©sim
Spilling thoughts.
(Inspired by and dedicated to John Edward Smallshaw, and his "Spice")


I am a summer-man,
Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea.
Let it and the other two Musketeers,
boon companions to me,
Sun and Wind,
erase my discomposure as I
reside in the Poet's Nookery.
Let them have almost
all that troubles,
but not all.

I am a summer-man.

On the bay, on the beach,
I see birth, I see death,
osprey nests, carcasses of
mussels and horseshoe *****.
This, somehow reassuring,
the cycles,
this circularity,
the tides and inevitability.

I am a summer-man.

Student of languages seasonal,
Peaches, plums, cherries, poetry
and loving Woman.^
This, the  summer alphabet-soup
of my multiple tongues.

I am a summer-man.

Sancerre and Pinot Gris, super cold,
Paul Simon, Nina Simone,
with proper aging,
getting  hotter,
Salsa and Afrikaner hints,
super louder,
Even "Still Crazy After All These Years,"
that-who-wud-be-me,
chills outer.^^

I am a summer-man.

When ever this lad's writes appear,
it proves once again,
there is no truth that his  
name was once Dr. Seuss
In a prior life, even if
each is signed by
Ogdiddy Nash


I am a summer-man.

Disrespectful of the calendar,
if I can, try to make
summer season stretch-marks from
May to October.

I would add April,
but the IRS is already
****** at me.^^^

Though the cherry blossoms of May
now gone away,
the lilies of June
arrive, but but for a week or two,
soon, like my mom, withered away.

Acorns in August^^^^ have arrived too swiftly.


This summer, beloved,
and love of summer,
deep-rooted.

Season of my Peter Pan Poetry Galore Festival.

A love,  incapable, impossible, of ever
growing old, ever growing cold,
it cannot wither.
It is summer heat reminders exposed,
how it misses its man,
that hide in the flames of
the teasing, popping, reminding
Winter fireplace's crackling popping
^ See "The Summer Alphabet of Woman (I Speak Woman)"
August 23 2013

lipstadt-man

^^ See "Made the bed backwards"
August 24 2013

^^^  See "Caesar Has No Authority Over The Grammarians"
August 22 2013

^^^^ See "* Acorns in August (Sonata for Summer Cello and Fall Piano, No. 3)" August 19 2013

——————

* Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel

April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again

June, she´ll change her tune,
In restless walks she´ll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.

August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I´ll remember.
A love once new has now grown old

————
Tonya Maria

Tonya Maria  I am a summer-woman,
Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea.
I too display the summer season stretch marks.....
The sea, my lover, owns every inch of me......
 Sep 2018 Ivan Brooks Sr
Blesseur
What a struggle, I want to live in the mountains.
These cities are overwhelmingly dense
packed with billions of incompatible personalities
Perpetual petty battles between religions, nationalities, colours...
It’s all nonsense in my ears, evil nonsense.
‘We’re right, they’re wrong’
Shut up!
Seeing eye to eye has never been heard of
That’s how it has always been.
Will we always be divided?
Yes? Maybe? No?
Oh god no
My bags are packed, my toes point to the mountains.
I needed reassurance
To believe
In everything I knew

I did it once
I did it twice
I did it often

It became usual
Now I doubt if anyone means it
I need reassurance again

It's like a drug
A drug I'm getting addicted to
And I hate it

Written by; Fildaus Umutoniwase.
I actually just wrote this right now.
 Aug 2018 Ivan Brooks Sr
Seema
Excuses after excuses,
Why can't you stop your accuses...
You made my mind confused...
And then, you blamed me and refused...
I wonder if you considered the outcome...
For every doubt you had, you spoke of your income...
I know bad days and stressful challenges have wrapped me tight...
But with gods help, I always lift myself and fight...
If you thought, I would beg you to stay...
Forget it, I have found my own way...
It's not easy to bypass the memories you gave...
For the shattered dreams that's gone in the graves...



©sim
Spilling thoughts.


I want you to LOVE
If not me,
Someone...

Better me,
Oh! It is okay
I don't mind anyone too
Just the idea is
I want you to
Experience LOVE
To realize LOVE
So that you can
Know my LOVE
And taste the flavor
Of "LOVE"

Thus know my LOVE
How much I LOVE YOU
With what passion
How deep
With what intensity

But LOVE
Not as imitation of any LOVE
(Especially my LOVE for you)

LOVE purely
From the soul
Deep inside from your gut

So much LOVE that
Just by the feel
Of your BELOVEDz
Your BEING shivers
Let LOVE flow and ooze
Out of your skin pores

I want you to LOVE
If not me,
Someone...

Better me!

I LOVE you
YOU LOVE me




A fountain sits at the center of town,
with crystal waters falling like tears;
Folks wandering before an impending storm,
searching for answers to their wayward years.

Slate-gray skies appear ominous above,
with streaks of claret edging each cloud;
Lightning flashes strike the earth with force,
in a whirlwind of furious sights and sounds.

Is there nowhere to run and hide away ?
While fears cut deeply like sharpened knives;
Immense sorrow suspends the hope for relief,
as desperation rules each person's life.

Then a child climbs up the tallest tree,
gently singing among the wild torment;
Branches snap off tumbling to the ground,
as the child continues his sad lament.

From the heavens a sudden jolt is felt,
which sends this child a magic wand;
Each leaf of the tree turns to solid gold,
and harmony returns to this anguished land.
Never underestimate a child's faith !
~weary weighted~

flummoxed are the sea watchers;
the long rhythms of sea change reveal only minor modesties,
difficult discerned are the tidal subtleties

though repetitive thrashing extracts it toll,
only the weary-weighted see the true meaning of the beating,
knowing full well,
it beats for them

recalling their early day’d fascination with its endless chaining,
now knowing all are similar
detained-chained,
and  the ******* churning but a cover up masque,
they need not longer conceal,
an unrevealed confess:

water is heavy-weighted, you cannot forever float,
constancy is of a thing to be wary,
its sadder longevity,
a chipping away erosion of wearing,
‘tis is the knelling noise of  sad respite,
an unlight lighthouse



~for Victoria, a year later~
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