the two men shared a
though each one was very
different in perception
they both had a love
for water colour painting
oft they'd sit at an
one of the artists being
a most evil man
whilst the other artist
showed a far gentler pan
yet an abiding affection
of visual art
tied them together
and not apart
She is his princess.
He is her forever protector.
He is the first man she will know.
He the one to watch her grow.
She is his daughter.
And he is her dad.
One of many relationships not address.
Except many ladies have fond memories of their dad.
We mostly talk about the father and the son.
But many mothers are aware of the depth of these two relationships.
Articles somehow avoid it.
Unless she addresses to write an article or book about it.
Many men know hurt his daughter in any way.
You more than any other time has a serious visit from the dad.
Just don't face him when mad.
When conversations grow darker than night skies cold. And the tree leaves on the breeze fail to whisper the truth. What happens then, after Summer, so far away from the Springtime of youth? I don't know, but ergo Autumn. And with this quote end. Just as the rocks below look up to the sky above. Marylan spoke my mind in synonym that day, and so I'm through with love.
in a demented convulsion
the victimizer played
the crucifier screaming
over the crucified.
as if respondsibility will
carry confusedly over stone
concluding thereof it was an
outside influence that saw
to the carnage.
blameless thus the full inheritence
of the earth conferred.
of course--rightfully so.
December 13, 2018
My mother never texted me in school
And when she did, it was straight to the point
something must be really wrong
she would've pulled me out if it was too serious, right?
my fingertips feel like rocks
as i force them to dial her number
the phone only rang once
when I heard her sniffle
At first, her words were inaudible
I was frantic trying to figure out the code
and just when i found the signal spot
Her words broke me in two
"Cory died, honey"
I stopped dead in my tracks
in front of the guidance counselors office
A single tear down my cheek
I hoped, no, I prayed it was a dream
and in that moment reality hit me
Like a truck racing at full speed
And I walk into her office
In a broken sentence,
I told the secretary it was urgent
And when she wouldn't give up
I yelled as if it was all I could do
I watched my mother's car pull into the school parking lot
And when I entered, it was silent
the kind of silence that deafens you
And i think of him
He wasn't my brother by blood
He was my brother because he treated me like family
More than my own family ever has
There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of him
I like to think
that even when i am alone
he is always here
watching over me.
This poem is all over the place but I needed to write. Today has just been kind of hard with this flashbulb memory.