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Always keep in mind
Your soul
will be written on paper,
Immortalized
for future generations,
Be it good or bad
Or bad or good,
Your energy will
be transformed
Into words.

See,
I couldn’t tell her
how it felt at the end,
Neither could I apologize
For the things that I did.
But oh, how she shined the same,
Be it if she wore lingerie,
Or her favorite dress.

I’ll find myself
thinking of her a lot,
Her smile that brightened
So much that it would
Dim the lamps,
The bulbs,
Even the sun
If it had a chance
To cross her path.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off
Of her,
Only when she directed
My gaze,
Her eyes twinkling
Like the stars in the sky,
Now so far too.

Every now and then,
I’ll reach out,
Feel the warmth
Upon my arms,
But then I’ll stop
And take a step back,
Because apologies
aren’t enough.
He takes a second to step aside
He takes a moment to see his lie
And he decides to take a turn this time
But really, he doesn’t know if it’s for the worst
If it’ll be his demise, if it’s just his curse, at work

No one has really known his mind
And no one’s ever seen his eyes
And no one ever thinks behind
Not quite like he’s questioned why
But for them, it’s his own mind’s pride

He wants to close his eyes
But he can feel it in the prize
He can feel it in his tries
So will you step aside
To at least let him try
 Oct 2020 Pete Badertscher
nevaeh
my hair today
is a very good rep
for my soul:

inconsistent
damp
and crazy as ****
i hate my hair it's curly in some spots but not consistently enough to actually be considered "curly"
Baby Baby blue
lacy Lingerie
and a rose of red.
the lingerie is stained
and the rose is just
a hole in your head
The once pink petals on
the floor are wilted,
none left on the bed
Everything is dry,
Like sandpaper
not a tear was shed.
Read it to the beat of any Children's Nursery Rhyme
i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.
 Dec 2017 Pete Badertscher
Eric W
I wouldn't even recognize you,
nor you I.
How we have changed and grown,
how the years and loves
have formed us.
How the trials have toughened
or beaten us.

I hope you are well.

I hope that the world has not
stricken the love from you,
and that the lives which
surround you and which you surround
still smile upon your kind soul.

I hope you have not been beaten too much.

I hope you have faced down more trials
than have faced down you,
and that the things which you have conquered
have been strengthening instead of
diminishing to your spirit.

Of all hopes, I hope that you still
find a reason to smile
every day.
Josiah Jack
never uttered a sound
when they dragged him away
from the scene.
when his poor body
was eventually found,
the treatment endured,
had been mean.

With no tongue in his head
they had left him for dead.

With a month
on his back,
he did indeed
contemplate.
Only sin
“he was black”
hence forth
this weary state.

They attacked in the night,
hooded and white.

All in all
he was
lucky
to be
breathing at all,
all because
he was plucky,
all because
he stood tall.

A ***** they said
should lower his head.

Were they hooded
for fear?
Were they hooded
in shame?
Most likely,
once covered,
they could hide
of their name.

If things were so right,
why hide out of sight?

Bravery isn't
a word for the ****,
Cowards,
this word comes to mind.
Bravery comes
when there's only one man,
not one
with ten more stood behind.

I will strike in a pack
with someone watching my back.

Their plan
was to ****,
this man
Josiah Jack.
Perhaps they
get a thrill
when someone
cannot fight back.

They get real loud
when they join with the crowd.

Josiah
knew well
that if he
raised a hand
his kin folk
would feel hell
from this
unruly band.

So he did not fight
but gave in to his plight.

They think
they were hidden
beneath that
white hood,
Josiah's hearing
is sound
and his
memory is good.

So when things are forgot,
he will take of his lot.

That's exactly
what happened,
as they lay
in their bed.
The flames hurled
with fury
the sky
filled with red.

This man barbequed them like fish on a rack
and no one put it down to Josiah Jack.
13th July 2015
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
Were I given a life to return
To hold again my newborn son,
I'd take time to be present,
Really "there,"
Beside, behind him,
As he learned to run.

Instead of the tower on the hill
I tried unsuccessfully to be,
I'd walk beside him on the path,
Reminded of my boyhood memories;
I'd leave the sermons to the priest and be the dad.

I'd get us shovels,
Deep to dig our conversations,
Embrace the work and sweat and look for more,
Pick and bar our way to Rock,
Drill and blast our anchors to the floor.

Before the storm surge of his teenage years,
I'd strive to see strong footings were in place,
Weld strong the structures while the girders rise,
Pray the work would stand the weather's cruel face.

The past, now present has me chilled;
The distances are lost in haze;
What I see now from my distant hill
Reveals broken structures to be razed.
God grant us time to renovate and fill
Remaining years to bring Him praise.
Work in progress....
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