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 Mar 2015 Mehma Kunwar
samuel hdz
It's been a while.
The usual didn't attract me like it once did.
Numb to feeling.

Waiting on emotions to poor.
The muse was a no show.
Nothing happened.  

So I left.

Only to return.
To leave you, the ink, the pages, my heart....
I can't.

So here we go again..
"When the sins of my father,
weigh down in my soul,
and the pain of my mother,
will not let me go"


you told me when i'd grow up i'd understand some day,
but ever since we went our seperate ways I could never grip why it had to be this way,
back and forth until you slammed the door and went away,
To come back for more and slap your "*****" across the face,

But somethin brought you back to your senses like it always did,
hate your life and blamed your wife but loved your kids,
you staind her mind and made her cry and punched and kicked until she layed to die with bloodshot eyes you ****** *****,

All the alcohol and drugs you did just made me sick,
only ******* hit their women,
I shoulda sprayed a clip,

Sometimes I wished you'd never come back to me cuz I saw my mama truly happy,
and I know that deep inside she loved you once,
but one punch was enough and the rest that came was just too much,
every day you showed up drunk,
it was the same old same and still she showed her love,
I guess you never could appreciate her for what she truly was,

The image of a beautiful lady bruised up is tatted in my brain,
its guys like you that give guys like me a bad name,
cuz "we're all the same" and that could never change,
but one **** up's enough,
who'd walk back to pain?

Bruises fade and scars are covered,
but emotional damage sticks with you,
I love my mother and I know you loved her too,
and what you did wasn't right to you,
but what happened, happened,
I shoulda stuck a knife in you,

She tried for you but won for us,
me and my sisters,
I love em so much and I tell you what,
if they meet a punk like you i'll rip out his tongue,

I won't forgive you for what you done,
but you're still my dad and i'm still your son-

Then I look at you as a person,
I saw through your eyes and heard you cry,
you were always hurtin,
and I don't why but i'm like that too,
I guess we're the same in a way,
maybe that's why I don't like you,

Well i'm older now and I kinda get it,
I had some time to think and I wish you didn't leave,
we left the house but you left for good,
now it hurts every time I drink,
every drug I do reminds me of you,
maybe i'm just tryna hide the pain every time I fly away,
20 year old alcoholic,
i'm in your shoes every step I take,
I even look like you for christ's sake,
its like we got the same brain,

The day you left it hit me,
and ever since it felt like somethin's missing,
but for reasons unexplained I don't wana see your face,
its not because I hate but maybe I just changed,
all that I can say is I hope that you're okay,
my bad for bein cold but my feelings complicate,
but the fact that you're only human is clouded,
all the times that you shouted and pounded your fists in her again and again,
****** me off to no end,
i'm chokin on regret of not jumpin in to bust your head,
i'd give up everything to know you're dead,
nothin's left but painful memories-


"when the sins of my father,
Weigh down in my soul,
and the pain of my mother,
will not let me go,"
i'm consumed in regret,
I shoulda stepped in,
but please forgive me mother,
I was too young-
Dedicated to my ******* father that I look just like-
At that moment,
you were a metaphor;
a face,
a mask,
for everything
I need, desire.

At the moment,
you are my scapegoat;
a place to go,
a direction in which to throw
everything
he should've been.

In that moment,
you will rise to my smile;
my eyes,
my heart
to be all
I deserve.
Silent pond ripples—
She dips her toes in water,                                                                                  
  .  .  .  Soft *******, stiffen.
LISTENING TO NATURE SINGING
Andrew Juma
Hearing the wind  whistle  among the trees,
In the wee morning hours,

Or  the chirping birds' acappellas,
Among dripping leaves,

And the waterfalls cascading Rocky cliffs,
Clearly one believes that
Man has not written the best of songs,
Among non/ living things.
To see art as a way of life, to see it like the blood running through your veins.
To see creating like eating or drinking, creating passions for people to remember.

Will it be worth it? Will it be worth it to be passionate every day,
Even if people won’t see you, cause you’re not in a movie. You’re not seen.

That is not what passion is about. It isn’t about how many people will know you were, Passionate.
2014
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