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 Apr 2013 Kiley Duke
OVC
My Father
 Apr 2013 Kiley Duke
OVC
For the first time I talk to you
I hated you, I despised you, I disliked you
I forgot about you, father.

The two of you became distanced
The kid you once hit has now grown
I wonder, is he now an adult?

The first time, I slept at grandma's house
I was consoled by her
Being poor, she only gave a plastic straw and a tight hug.

The last time, mom only told me, "You have to write more legibly,"
and I cried
But then I tried, I tried, tried, tried, tried, I tried, I tried
But then you disappointed again
Impossible to refrain, you'd come back late
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Too many to remember
Perfumed in alcohol,
You'd hit the wall,
You'd hit my door,
You'd hit my sister's door.
You mistreated my siblings.
I couldn't take it anymore
I deprived myself of my feelings.

The kid told me to forget you,
and you became a stranger.

Seven years have passed,
and two weeks have gone by
since a faint memory came back.

Is it time or is it wind,
that erodes the rock?

I called you, and timidly said four words to you.
Not many, only a few
Were you surprised,
that I had even tried?
We may never be a happy family of flying doves,
That I know.
What can happen in the future, that I have no clue
But shall we digress?
Happy birthday to you.
May we live at least another 50 years.

Thank you mother, I have a father.
?
 Apr 2013 Kiley Duke
Sarah
I see it for just a moment
A squishy mound of fur to the far right of the asphalt

This latest pile of dislocated mush is presented on a desert highway
A raccoon? No. Too small.
A coyote? Maybe. Who can tell?

That play-dough pile of crushed bones was not created outside the white lines where it now lays
Some chosen soul scraped and scooped the mystery meat to its resting place
Some jumpsuit wearing civilian is intimately aware with the parentage of the reassembled road victim
Do they have a moment of silence after the last shovel scrape?
Do they hold an internal roadside memorial?

What of the homicidal perpetrator behind his wheels?
He must know the identity of his victim
He must feel the agony of guilt
Or, is his only remorse in the quarters he must spend at the self-service carwash to remove the evidence?

Perhaps Road-**** animals haunt their vehicle killers
Maybe their blood can never be truly washed from the ****** weapon’s shinny surface
Like spots on Lady Macbeth’s hands
Perhaps the killer’s dreams are frequented by unidentifiable ****** mounds with eyes that stare from unnatural places

After all
Justice must be had in one way or another
For the unrecognizable John Doe pile represents all those wild things that must chance to cross the hard, hot, lethal highway
I'm strong
As an ox
Courageous, Bold
Fearless,
Nothing can hold me back
Try and break me
I dare you
Because like a diamond in out of the rough
I refuse to be crushed
 
I'm strong
Rolling with the punches
Going all in on hunches
Not scared to fail
No need to bail
Not stuck in a prison, no limits
Can't remember the last time I felt timid
 
I'm strong
But today I feel weak
Feel like folding
Crawling into a hole
Today looks bleak
Encased in the prison of my own mind
Hits so hard
I'm going blind
Darkness is all I see
I embrace it
Hug the pain
I stand outside in the rain
I allow myself to get wet, get soaked
And this makes me strong
 Apr 2013 Kiley Duke
Boring Bex
just pretend to me that you're slightly interested in who I am
who I was
who I will be

just lie to me
sweet talk me
because I never want you to forget about me

let's just pretend that everything is alright
nothing is broken
in or out of sight

and we'll follow the path through the forest
until we come to an end
because it's easier to forget
than it ever will be to mend
 Apr 2013 Kiley Duke
Lilyy
We live in golden cities
Paved with golden roads
We bathe in these riches
We don't do what we're told
We don't think to turn around
To look back for danger
We don't think to turn around
Or we're just afraid to
We imagine the only monsters
That we could need fear
Can be taken down with gun
Or are only in the mirror

Our golden cities
And our golden roads
Have begun to bruise and bleed
Our footprints have left marks
That will never recede
Beaten down and torn apart
Morphed from gold
To another shade of wealth
A city of black and grey,
With artificial glimmer
Topped with some patriotic colors
Left in the sun to simmer

We color the blue sky
To match our dreary street
We paint it with the products
Of our unhealthy treats
Tinted with black
Our sky has nothing left to say
Only toxic strings of saliva
To come pouring out its cheeks
The rain can't do us any harm
No more than the food we eat
And the chemicals we drink
So long as you ignore
The patches in your umbrella sink

Someday, our oil city
Will turn into black dust.
Our golden city will be forgotten,
No such thing as golden rust.
Pass it off as legend,
And have people pay a buck,
Just to visit the ruins
Of a turn of "bad luck"
It'll be a "Garden of Eden"
A "Diamond in the rough"
I'll call it dust
And people will say that I'm the bluff

Power is wealth
And wealth is gold
Gold is oil
Or so, it's told.

We live in golden cities
Paved with golden roads.
We bathe in these riches
We don't do what we are told.

Once upon a time,
Golden apples fell from trees.
We'd pick up the apples,
And wipe off the dirt.
We'd pick up the apples,
And eat it like our dessert.
Now, we pick up apples
With big machines
And let them pour out gasoline.
We coat them in chemicals,
A lovely glossy sheen,
And hand them to the kids
While they watch TV.

We walk streets,
Stare up towards skies,
Skies covered with advert lies.
Chemicals in hand,
Antidote in bag,
On a diet,
Of poison and pills.

Look in the mirror,
No one is satisfied.
My, oh my, just what a surprise.
Take a look,
At the world beyond.
Take a look,
Towards everything.
The sky is fading,
And faces too.
We're all dying,
full of modified taboo.

Look, again,
look back towards
The world you missed
The days that you wished
Would come back,
Could be here.
Go on, shed a tear.
It's right to know,
Whatever was left,
Whatever glow,
Can be gone in an instant,
In a blink.
It could disappear
Now.
Or just sink
Into the dead, "Earth" below,
Sink into whatever is left of the known.


We live in golden cities
Paved with golden roads.
We bathe in these riches
We don't do what we are told.
 Apr 2013 Kiley Duke
James Ellis
The cypher was real, in fact it was authentic
Everything I mentioned, no doubt I meant it
Though I discuss topics that aren't debated
Everybody in the crowd smiled and related
I guess that's another one of life's contradictions
Kinda like the Qur'an I got for Christmas
But my mama encourages the pursuit of knowledge
Whether it be at work, in life, or in college
We understand the meaning of perspective
And if you don't you should at least respect it
Cause though you rap, and I write poems
We both have the power to enlight domes
The two are closer than it may seem
It can be underground or mainstream
Just be true to you, and be humble too
There's no telling in things you might do.
I’m on my last nerve
and your standing on it
my mood needs to swerve
like zapping a zit
my mouth needs to curve
but I’m down in a pit
I’ve lost my verve
vanished my wit
my bed I crave
from this day I quit

— The End —