The People’s Hero**  

The community loves a hero bold,  
A man of heart, both kind and gold.  
He walks among them, hears their cries,  
Bringing hope where sorrow lies.  

He finds the lost, he lifts the weak,  
He gives his hand before they speak.  
Their hunger met, their pain relieved,  
In him, they trust, in him, believe.  

Through trials fierce and nights so cold,  
He stands unshaken, strong and bold.  
Not for glory, not for fame,  
But love that fuels his sacred flame.  

And so the people rise as one,  
With hands that match the work he’s done.  
For he who gives shall never fall,  
The love he shares returns to call.  

They lift him high, they walk beside,  
Their hero strong, their hope, their guide.  
As long as he stands, they will too,  
Bound in love forever true.

I've been lately writing poetry!
Oh? What do I see?
A perfect poetry site waiting for me!
First poem, proud of it!
Oh? Someone in my messages?
This guy seems sweet
And he's hoping I don't get beat!
Pretty songs for me to listen to!
And a drunk man messaging me...?
“You're only making yourself a victim because you're cutting yourself"
Oh? Okay- thanks for the paragraph/drunk rant?

Shining lights on all of my latest poems?
Thank you! You're so sweet!
….oh…talking to me about pedophiles…got it…
Why are there so many sad songs?
WHY DOES THIS MAN HAVE SO ****** MUSIC TASTE AGGGHGDGFGCC

Oh? You wrote a poem about the 764 and absolutely humiliating them?
Great! Good job!
…But uhh… why and how did they make a virus only going after your followers that are minors? Not funny!
Why is this man warning me if they threaten me? Is he trying to make me scared on purpose?
Blaming the Japanese for this virus now, huh?
Oh? Now blaming someone else named Pax to be part of the 764? Crazy

…. going to another website? But you're so fun!
May as well click on the link you sent me so I can join you

Drunk rants with me? That's okay!
Giving me gold so I can freely make poems?
THANK YOU SM
Daily texting
2-10 hour sessions
Why are you drinking everyday?
You're making me concerned for your health
I told you to stop drinking, papa
You promised me you'd stop
All you did was keep on drinking

Commenting on every poem I made
Oh? So suddenly I'm a “nasty *****" when I have done nothing to you? ありがとう!
We have a suicide pact now?
I'm going off the bridge first?
Don't mind if I do

Oh? Another poetry site? Okay…
I really don't like the way this site works, can't we just message each other with email?
Yes? Yay!

People bullying you on the internet? That's not okay!
Why would they accuse you of being a *******?
Letting me join an uncensored group to back you up? Great!
Sending me to a Reddit page to back you up?
Alright!
….oh … they warned me and I didn't do anything….
******* this man is an actual *******…..
gotta go fast like Sonic
pack my bags and leave

Oh? I betrayed you? Crazy
We were just friends
Can you stop spitting my name everywhere?
It's like you're so obsessed with me
Stop trying to be the Eminem to my Mariah Carey
Made a poem about you and you HAD to take it down?
Never thought you'd want to hide your identity THAT hard
Oh? Betting on my suicide now, are we?
Sending me multiple emails, desperate for me to come back to him?
I'm not that ******* naive or gullible
It's crazy if you think that about me
…I did tell you to send those photos of your cut open arms but I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D TAKE IT SERIOUSLY AND DO IT

Being racist?
“Japshit”?
Why are you so obsessed with my Chinese genes?
“I thought I can use Kai because of her Chinise genes because the Chinise was known to be very good spies. ☝️🤓" へー! Didn't know that!
Also, that's not how you spell Chinese, my fellow kind sir
Threatening people to come to America with a Katana and slice us to pieces
So envious, I see
You're just mad because we have a little bit more freedom than your drunk *** does

Oh…. Talking to me about ****
Got it
Thanks
I didn't need to be taught about METART or some **** like that
I'm only 12 years old
You ***** *****

Well…this is the aftermath

There is a road—
worn smooth by the weight of avoidance,
its stones polished
by the feet of those who feared the fire.

It was an easy road, once.
The gap was narrow.
The illusion held.

But now—

the distance has widened.
And the voices on the right road
speak in a tone
that sends tremors through the bones
of those who chose the left.

They are too far now—
too far to reach with whispers,
too far to pull back with outstretched hands.

And so—
they sharpen their words to steel.
They carve spears from syllables.
They gather in the middle ground—
where poetry was never meant to be a weapon,
and they brace for the throw.

---

Once, there were choices.

At the first fork, the road was still open.
The return was near, the steps were light.

But at each crossing, the distance deepened.
Each footfall carried the weight
of the last choice unmade.

Each turn back
required more courage
than the turn before it.

And so—
they did not turn.

Instead, they built monuments
to their own exile.
They lined the road with markers
to silence the unease.

The illusion thickened.
The herd gathered close.
And the further they walked,
the more they feared the eyes
that saw them leave.

Now—
each step forward
is an accusation against themselves.

Each mile another truth
that must be buried.

Each glance across the chasm
a torment that cannot be soothed.

---

Jonathan knew the weight of it.
He was born under a king
who wore a crown of emptiness,
who built an altar of fear,
who held his son as a token,
a prop, a piece of the podium.

Saul used him, loved him, needed him—
but only in so much as he could fill the void.

And Jonathan, bound by blood,
walked beside him.

But then—
he saw David.

A boy with no kingdom.
No throne.
No crown.

But something deeper.

And Jonathan felt it—
the pull, the knowing, the moment where the soul whispers, "this is real."

And he slipped away.
Not in rebellion.
Not in anger.
But in truth.

He turned his back on the road
that had never led anywhere
and bound himself
to the heart that was real.

---

And now—
on the leftward road,
there are those who feel it too.

They bow to the orator.
They weave themselves
into the illusion.
They stand upon the podium
that floats on nothing
and call it solid ground.

But then—

a whisper.
A shift.
A moment of clarity.

They look again—
not up, but under.

And they see it.
The nothingness beneath.

The hollow, the floating, the lie.

And in that moment—

they choose.

Some harden.
They grip the edges of the podium
and become part of it.

But some—
some slip away.

Not in rebellion.
Not in anger.
But in truth.

They turn back down the road
past every marker they once mistook for safety
until they find the first fork,
the first opening,
the last place where light still touches the ground.

And they step back onto the road
they never should have left.

And behind them—
the orator sees them go.

And the rage begins.

---

The first to throw was Saul.
He played the game well at first—
a king by the measure of men,
a ruler by the weight of shoulders
bowed low in his name.

But then—
a boy with red hair
and a heart like fire
stood before him.

And Saul’s throat burned dry.
He called for David’s hands upon the strings,
for the music that soothed
and let him forget—
until forgetting was no longer enough.

And so—
he took the spear.
And when David turned his back,
Saul sent it flying.

---

And now—
the leftward road does the same.

But now, the throw has weight.
Now, the throw has force.

It is not just to quench the light.
Not just to punish those who chose the right.

It is to reclaim the ones who left.

It is the throw of desperation.
The spear of retribution.
The final attempt to keep the illusion
from crumbling completely.

The rage grows more erratic.
The strikes more reckless.
Each spear heavier
than the last.

Because every escape
is another fracture in the illusion.
Another crack in the podium.
Another moment of emptiness
made visible.

And the orator knows—

they are running out of minions
to shield them from the truth.

---

The blade of poetry was never meant
to be wielded in the hands of the hollow—
on a battlefield made by the empty,
where Envy attempts to slay
the substance-born embodiment of truth.

---

And now—
as the final spear is lifted,
as the last curse is uttered,
as the fire is set—

the road to the right remains.

And the leftward path
devours its own.

Smiles are a peculiar thing
I find yours infectious
Crawling on my mouth
So when you look at me
I look at you too

If only your smile found its way onto mine
So that they can intertwine
Delicately and passionately
So when your hand is on my body
Mine is on yours too

I’ll burn and
Break and
Desecrate
Myself

And
Pray
To some
non-existent god
That

I

could be

Someone
else

Someone
More

Someone.


Some.



One.

He hears

Whenever I am lonely,
I cry out to  you.

My life
is a parenthesis:
I've more to say
but sometimes what
I'm unsure-
my thought
my feeling
or mood
can change
in a wink
thus, only
a semi-colon
will follow

the full-stop
is the final station
what sort
of coda
will there be
in store?

Chill impedes my spine,
Mist clouds my mind,
Voices scream and cry,
“Why can't I just die?”
Hypo through my bones,
Obscurity bestows,
For this excuse
Is mine adieu.
Done with all, until…
A flash
Concise and clean.
Heaves me back
“Don’t leave them.”
My soul ousts a squeak
A silence stills,
“Escape the black”
For there’s always light
In the world of lack.

you are fused within me
my cells have merged with your light
you are coursing through my veins
racing through the chemicals in my brain
expanding my lungs
my dna is altered
my signature changed
my vision enhanced

my soul received an upgrade
and it is you
pumping through my heart

Fix bayonets
Fray raiments
Make payments
Throw dice
Get poorly
Sing lowly
Suppose
That's not
So nice
Then linger
Dirge singer
Half chips
Half fried rice.

The water was crystalline and cold
I danced with you in a crushing grip
and distant disconnection.

I held on to you—
in an illusory intimacy,
and deafening silence,
in the moments of fulfillment,
in the endless hours of isolation.

It was my first dance—
chosen with open eyes.
Youth tames wild rivers,
but the swirling depths take away
strength, naivety,
and wonder.

I persisted in stubbornness for years,
suspended between the worlds—
like a stone swallowed by a waterfall
at first, looking into an icy void
then into the warm sun,
convincing myself
I could heal something,
never having been whole.

Uncertain of what was
much closer to me—
my persistence
or my yearning
for what would never come to be.

Then the river tore me from the shore
carried me far away.

Did I ever have a choice?

The hardest thing
is to say goodbye to what
was never real.

This dance by the waterfall’s edge
will remain the only dance of my life.
I know I don’t want to be trapped
in the cold waters rushing toward
the abyss.

How cruel is reality,
I loved Truth,
An idol of a speaker,
An intelligent human being.

But maybe not,
Maybe he really was an evil thing,
Maybe they were all right,
The questions just pile up.

Where did he go, why did he leave,
Is he coming back, or gone for certain,
Was he really a good person,
Or was I wrong all along.

The Amelia Falls, where waters break,  
A young man stands as dawns awake.  
Sigil of Lucifer, bold and bright,  
A mark of will, a guiding light.  
Hecate blessings like the moon light.


Oil and gas beneath the presidents feet,  
Fueling ships, the nation's fleet.  
Once rice and sugar tilled the land,  
Now black gold flows from the presidents right hand.  

Through sweat and steel, he built his name,  
A force of progress, forged in flame and fame 
Like Musk before, he dreams in codes,  
Where energy sparks and data flows.  

The Dutch arrived, their wager cast,  
They bought the land, they saw his past.  
Not just wealth, but future planned,  
They forged his bond, they took his hand.  

And now he stands, the world in sight,  
Guyana rising, bold and bright.  
No longer bound by past despair,  
A titan shaped by fire and air.  

In the city’s heart, a hush unfolds,  
The President, a child he holds.  
A newborn wrapped in tender grace,  
The future’s breath upon his face.  

With care he lifts, with might he sways,  
A leader’s arms, a nation's gaze.  
For in this child, the hope is set,  
The dream not done, the path not met.  
The pink COVID  slip that cares
The 100k cash grant that shares

Votes like sugar, sharp yet sweet,  
A pulse that makes the drumbeat meet.  
Like honey poured in hands of fate,  
A whispered choice that fixes the slate, with hands of faith

The young rise up with eyes alight,  
Their voices carving paths of might.  
No story ends where hope still grows,  
A tide that swells, a flame that glows.

Gold in veins, the mountains sing,  
Electronic minds, a future’s wing.  
Rice in fields, the harvest thrives,  
Oil and gas keeps the 25 alive.  

Cards are swiped, the markets rise,  
Trade and commerce touch the skies.  
A land of wealth, both old and new,  
Built by hands both strong and true.  

Yet in his veins, the battle flows,  
Kept alive where medicine goes.  
Right hands guide, the path is clear,  
Strength restored with 25 percent every year.  

Through fire and fate, he stands so tall,  
A future built, a nation’s call.  
The Falls still roar, the waters run,  
And so his empire has begun 1331.

she had a history of dollars,
wrapped around her collar,
they lusted the salt within,
and of the taste of her skin,
she whispered the monsters,
who considered her fodder,
sunk down underneath,
a last scale of her breathe,
and their lawyers will deceive,
but she held onto a black diary,
blood and guts to the new refinery.

El río arrulla
una canción de cuna.
Me recuerda a ti.

Establish yourself in a timeless state;  
be aware that everything changes.  

Love is the death of peace of mind—  
WHY DO I CRAVE IT?!
It makes me feel so alive.  

She’s a designer, building from the ground up,  
everything I have been searching for.

Your energy runs through me,  
the walls containing my innermost  
have become your well met portal.  

Into me, I am the ravished,  
embracing the seasons of growth before us.  
Let the flames of a morning sun rise!  

I will light a candle for you,  
may this flame guide the way you seek -  
you have already lit mine.  

Such precious time received,  
each moment a cherished spark,  
intertwined in the dance of our souls.

Embarked on an ardent, darker flight,
forcing my own soul to seek tenebrous love.
Weary of constant dizziness,
of complicated thresholds,
and of the spiritual crime.

What brought us to this night?—
the mystery,
the fright.
What has been kept? What will be given?
So unresolved and so opaque,
this—what enfolds the being.
No clear path, no order,
no purity in time.

They say time heal all wounds
And though that may be true
For the majority of scenarios
It’s not an irrefutable fact

For our childhood scratches
May be a fleeting kind of pain
Yet there are some scars that life
Engraves deep within our soul

Like a bullet whose trajectory
Missed my heart by a few inches
But hit a far more damaging target
My very last bit of innocence

Now, when I look into the mirror
Every broken bone lost its meaning
And the echoes of who I once was
Are all that remains to be seen

The whir of the fan
interrupted

by every penny
I pitch

and I'm idle
with time on my hands

waiting on the Devil
to give me something to do

I pray it only involves
music

To go back in time
would bring me joy
To see you again
is my only wish
If only I could go back in time


To go back in time
Would give me a chance
to find peace
to find a place in the world
that I hate
If only I could go back in time


To go back in time
Would bring me pain
of all the memories
Of the things we've been through.
Why do I wish so much
To go back in time?

Doubts. Fear. A dark past.
We all have them-
but listen to me now:

We fight.
We fight our shadows,
our weakness,
our doubts-
and yet we rise our fist higher than before.

Fear is close- always near- but we move forward,
we don't let it take over us
we never let it win.

Our dark past.
Yes, they hurt.
But let them clear your path,
embrace them, hold them tight,
let them be your reminder:
You are stronger.

Grow like trees
some never watered,
yet they still rise-
breaking stone, reaching the skies.

Have the courage to rise from fear,
don't let it drown you deeper.
Stand tall.
Face your shadow- and fight.

The mirror's dark other half looks back at me in the dark of the morning

the whole street's asleep still, moonlight wavering and waxing to its peak

the lake is still frozen beyond the harbour, two islands joined by an ice corridor

the sound of the guitar a part of the darkness, a piece of the morning, a song before the birds wake.

It’s a sunny day,
I watch you
Slip through
My fingers
As I dip my hands
Into you,
Smoke dangling
From my lips
Like scars.

Tell me,
My love,
My new love,
My new found love,
Will I lose you too?

The tide pulls back,
a quiet thief,
stealing footprints
before I can trace them twice.

Tell me,
is love always like this?
A flicker in the dark,
a matchstick kiss,
a fleeting warmth
Tired and soulful eyes.

Or will you stay,
linger like salt on skin
like a song I whistle,
long after the music fades.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 Prancing Chainsaw Dude

Prancing chainsaw dude
Humiliates all of us
And we obey him

Sometimes,
you back up into a corner,
not knowing what else to do—
you feel terribly alone,
and terribly blue.

You—
alone and blue,
backed into a corner.

Just remember—
feeling alone and blue,
you have backed into a very strong corner,
and life has your back.

So stand,
just a moment,
and breathe—just breathe
and know—
you are not so alone,
and not so blue.