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Marta C Weeks Aug 2022
Voices claim
rights to justice
From streets to stages
they proclaim sources
of wrongs.

Do you
teach your kin
with words or actions
that's their right
to ****?

Then there's
no safety for
their siblings or parents
For who wins
right wrongs?

Clean streets
from immigrants ****
But who's the ***?
You say that's
the bad.

In cheer
and pomp citizens
judge right from wrong
But yours can't
be deployed.

Does God
support those who
in the name of
country **** to
right wrongs?


@MartaCWeeks.com
Marta C Weeks May 2017
If I were to die now
would I be a melody
you bring to life
in tunes of forever vows
or would you take me
into your mind’s heart
till the end of your song
and will the image of us
live in visions of love

Marta
Revised 5/3/17
For most humans
belonging is tied to names
passed through generations
by fathers and mothers.

Unless orphaned or divorced
a name can ascertain
from birth to death
who we are or are not
and shame us or make us proud?

A name can be all we need
to belong proudly and pass it
on to those we love
or to separate and divide us.

The feeling of belonging
is in a name's historical roots
it can elevate or diminish
and in shame, choose
not to belong to their name.
This came to me as I tried to decide what name I wear.
Marta C Weeks Aug 2022
My favorite tree in our yard
is bare
And every time I look out
It’s bareness
Swallows me in feelings of loss
When first
Leaves turn colors like loved ones
last breath
Leaving arms that once held me
only memories
Of once arms on a body
Love-filled
Even when branches tossed by winds
like sticks
From a life once well spent
full again
Lush regalia crowds over each other
with memories
Of happy times return and memories
dunks deep
Into my gut, how it was
hate that,
For love reminds how painful loss
can be
When love’s arms  go from barren
To lush

8/30/22
@ Changes by Marta Masis Delgado
(aka) Adint-Weeks
Marta C Weeks May 2017
Like helpless children
of passive parents,
we cave into fear

We must not only fill
opportunist's coffers
or post on social media

Raise HELL on bullies
support leaders
not resting on laurels

No time for hand ringing
wiping brows or catatonia
rally for all seeking office
Just wrote out of frustration not sure it's a poem.
Marta C Weeks Apr 2017
Drums of war
converse about rights
claim blessings from their God
to profess justice against injustice

A child asks:
is killing right for who wins?
can neighbors **** to clean up
their neighborhoods?
What if they **** us?

No, that's different
you simplify too much
the bad must be destroyed
the color of blood is not red

In cheer and pomp drums beat
as self-proclaimed judges decide
when is killing patriotic
in the harbor of safety
conversing about rights
edited 4/18/2017
Marta C Weeks Jun 2019
Have you seen
a life born
and someone die?
The beginning
and end of life.
Memories buzzing
as guilt buts in
like gossipy neighbors
and regret comes
as if it’s not enough
that reality is rude
and the loss is lost
in wishing away
a stain that stays
to remind us that all
wasn’t as we’d want
to make believe.
Yet, if wet trash
is how we feel
as we let tears flow
as we almost ***
laughing the bad away
and crying the good in
reality fills us
with the truth of how
love is.

Marta
6/28/2019
Marta C Weeks Jun 2017
The mind
when immersed in memories
of yesterday carried by
hopes of tomorrows
and thoughts that like stones
on the surface of a lake
skip from feeling to heart
tracing ripples of emotions
as from nature's beauty
to the smallness of self
is a universal totality
brushing wind over water
to wave onto shore
a life that lost on Earth
helps grow the next wave
that reaches beyond
into the horizon
where some go to sleep
while others wake
are born or take last breath
to be born again
matters not if the sun shines
or the moon reflects on its surface
glass only gives back
the reality of what is
not what one wants
the universal blanket
over and under
above and below
into time on end
not wavering not changing
to accommodate humanity
sustains eternity
what was and what will be
wishing to be more
is as a mere leaf that falls
over an oak seed on its bank
majestic in the passing
before and after us
is where we take part
of forever

Marta
06/01/2017
I edited.:
Marta C Weeks Jun 2019
God, as I understand you
grant me the valor to see the truth
not what I fear,
want to see, or want it to be.

An eye for reality
and another for day dreaming
a mouth to speak my truth but not
push it on others.

A mind to remember my messy tracks,
mistakes and faults,
what I need to accept or change
but please
don't bother me too much because
it's my time
to kick back, breakout and do
my thing.

Compassion to see
that reality can be hard or healing
and good or rough times,
can build with mistakes esteem
despite the screams and frowns,
from others.

Let me go thru this day not counting
blessings nor messes
not taking everyone’s inventory
and standing up for myself and others
even when on my ****.

Marta
3/7/2019
Dedicated to my dad. I only saw you once for few hours when I was 18 but thought of you every day of my life. May you now Rest In Peace. Love you Hector and don’t judge you for doing the best you were capable of doing,
Marta C Weeks May 2017
The other day
I missed the laughter
We could have shared
Births we could have held
Joys and sadness of life
Happening without you
And yet always with you
For you live in us
You live with us
Your ever present absence
The words you said
Laughter roaring
From your joy
Tears running
From your sadness
All flowing back to us
Giving memory life
Bringing love alive
We miss you
Not for a moment think
That in your void
We forgot all the times
You gave us
To remember you by
To forget you not
To love others
To wait for the day
When in sprit
We will once again
In the silence of eternity
Share you
Without words
4/27/2017
Marta C Weeks Feb 2017
Into the sky
Even ghosts
Once slaves
Rise
From graves
Of oppression
To see Barack

His eyes
Luminous
With humility
Head high
Steady voice

All witness
His assent
Over mountains
Of Whites, Blacks
Browns and Yellow
Multiplicity of life

In triumph
Barack takes
Bigotry's flames
Into dreams that lift
Humanity
Into stars, of equality

And God of all
Rejoices
A son has risen

by
Marta C. Weeks
January 20, 2009
martacweeks.com
I wrote the original poem while watching President Barack Obamas first inauguration.
Marta C Weeks May 2017
I now know
I lost my mind
In pain I grasped for life
In life I clung to death
Not knowing
Not thinking
Just grabbing lips
Crawling into arms
Mattered not
They were not yours
For years after you died
I was not me
I had no self
I cared for nothing
My heart was broken
Leaking pain
Into everyone
Not caring
Just taking
5/22/2017
Marta C Weeks Apr 2017
Remembering our dead
Mansions, or humble abodes
Virtues or deeds

Learned by heart
Nights of gladness
Morning sorrows

Stories as grains of sand
Forming eternal rocks
Or leaves from a tree
Shelters of hopes and dreams
  
Ocean waves drowning breath
Dreams crumbling as castles
Small homes becoming shrines
Images we choose, or not

Our great grands looking back
Thinking of us as we of ours
Long for memories to grow

Good grows as hands reach out
In time to lift, serve or destroy

Things break and lose charm
Those we feared and loved
Or guides found with sobs

Moments of shared delight
Human frailties, loss and pain
Keep us in want
Never enough, always too much

The hell of heaving
Infernos of inherited pride
Or careful purpose and deeds
Blessing those left

We follow their climb
When plotting our course
In darkness hides the light
Doors close in mind
I would appreciate critiques and comments on this poem.
Marta C Weeks May 2017
Before I leave this life
I don't want a sorry
         left unsaid
From anyone I have wronged
        forgiveness I beg
Matters not to me
         your share of blame
Before my last breath
        to smile at all I want
Wrong or right
         friend or foe
Not a tear unshed
Nor a smile
          stopped from laughter
Not a truth untold
           or a lie to nest
For what is life
           but a mere waking
Into the next beginning
A moving from shadows
             to light
Sky to Earth
              hope to breath
There are no forevers
               in the flesh
Sorry travels endlessly
                wrong bones might forget
But spirit's sufferings
                  Never ends
Marta 4/20/2017
Marta C Weeks May 2017
Travel with me
From  our smile
Into the passion of love
Follow me in the song
Of breathless encounters
Goose pimples on eyeballs
Kisses into morning
Marta 5/22/2017
Marta C Weeks Feb 2017
My heart crashed
As I stood on the sidelines
You played
To an adoring crowd

Inside me fear
Tore away
As it has done before

I had seen her
Lock into my lover's eyes
Take him into promises
Of her paradise
Then she looked at me
As women do
To announce
Pending victory

Lost in that turmoil
I gazed at you
Handsome violinist
Young prince of music
Your violin courting
Throbbing hearts
Minds filled with desire

My eyes fluttered
You held them
I felt avenged
In found promises
Yours into mine

I stayed fixed
From song to song
You stroked from chords
Into my need
Surfaced from imagined doom
Of lost love
And unforgettable pain
Whole and lovely
Into the center
Of your visual embrace

You came
In that moment in time
When I needed lifting
From sinking into regret
Into memories of loss

Where you sent by Fate
That very second
Your song a wave
To lift me from the gulf
I was falling into

It matters not
The moment passed
As he came back
From where he denied
Ever going
To love me again


By Marta C Weeks
@MartaCWeeks.com
4/20/ 2015
Wrote during a cruise
Marta C Weeks Apr 2017
Man on the cross

save us from walls

against hungry souls

raised by pedantic cons

to push Your words

from pulpits of arrogance


Barterers of crux for coins

lords over Scriptures

life, land, and heavens

offering rapture

as if a mop to wash

parlors of decadence


Is nothing holy

to bias and cruel hearts

architects of churches

that glorify wrong to divide

from pews that claim

You as their candy man


Staring at the cross

blood from thorns

did your mother weep

for hammerers of nails

or promise burning

those who reject lies


Is there resurrection

for throwers of spears

users of Your name

as a nine-ball

in pockets of greed

made-to-order redemption


Will self-proclaimed sages

accept your color of origin

not in a suit but rags

or claim you are Satan

to condemn and justify


Feel stones cry
by Marta C Weeks, raised 4/16/2017
Marta C Weeks May 2017
Some need rocks
To rest bigotry upon
Look down, feel taller
Or throw at others

Others have no guts
Camp on smiles
Feed on indifference
Rivers of promise
Golden tomorrows

Our country is burning
With horror and loss
Buried in traditions hides
Pits of immorality
Walls of racism

Halls filled with assets
Sit in miles of doubt
On hills of sorrow
Growing with fear

Brother, clinging to fear
Differences and inequalities
Hidden from having
While some take all

Sister, must you hate
Wish to **** hope
Bleaching love with hate
In fear of loss

Driven to please
Hating race or creed
Feeding in lack
Altars of fanatical pride
As if there's no God

Walking shame to blame
Taking sides with captors
Tearing all apart
To make what's not

Life goes forward
Insecurity drains hearts
Feeds souls to saviors
With political lies
Trading guts for greed

Builders of distrust
Sell promises if the power
Hiding cruel minds
Open theirs to close ours

Where is forever in now
Convinced we had choices
Wanting more than not
Lost sight of beyond

Cages of greed
Built by pulpits of avarice
Filled by a Congress
Here now, gone tomorrow

Eternal is only the universe
One minute we are here
Without love, there's no power
And soon we die
Holiness lost

Revised 7/7/2019
Marta@martacweeks.com
(had one of those nights, into morning, when my mind spun words  instead of dreams)
Marta C Weeks May 2017
In fear loaded times
Will a mask
That blends with all
Does not claim sides
Speaks of nothing
Stands for no one
Keep one safe?
To walk in crowds
Or hide behind doors
Doing nothing
Offending no one
Make us loved?
And where to hide
When a voice roars
Or fist bomb drops
In a corner
School or mall?

Marta
04/25/2017
Sent from my iPad
Marta C Weeks Aug 2022
Whiteness
Screams mix in the shrill sound of sirens
Wet with tears
From the eyes and faces of those
Cries for justice
Most born and die never knowing trust
Diminished by shadows
Distrusted because of the color of flesh
Less than life
Teach their children before spoon fed
Not to stray
But to live in their shade of color
Not to ask
Nor to ever expect permission nor contradict
To ignore humiliation
With such words as why are you sensitive?  
And if worried
About walking, working, or living, not white
signifies diminished worth
Not worth the respect or value of humans
Dogs in pounds
When whiteness is like crap filling the toilet
Brown
Marta C Weeks Nov 2019
Rise,
from deep in earth like sweet
rumbles of thunder in spring
pregnant with passion for men
filled with love for children

Rise,
to the sky with spirits of steel,
never wavering, even in doubt,
always holding a steady pace
while traveling on the road of life

Rise,
to reach for and taste the mud
of generations upon giving birth,
tender and strong of heart and back
sustaining all that men cannot

Rise,
from priestesses to prostitutes, sacred
we are all. Made to conceive and lead.
When women don’t rise, truth is corrupted
with edicts and imprisoned with lies

Rise,
don’t let evil pass from morning to night
onto days to dark or until the lie rings true
and wars don’t tear our children
in the name of peace from our hearts

— The End —