Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Karijinbba May 2019
My father's sister Salome crossed the rainbow bridge she was my French and native link to family root I found after 28 years appart
My daughter Rose drove us to a nearby ocean front to apeace
my grief, breathing in the gentle
sea breeze and sitting on the sand together
Other people enjoyed beach activities too
I had water in a paper cup
but no food remained in a bag,
when a crow unexpectedly landed alone by my side
no other raven/crow were seen.
perhaps attracted to my silvery long hair flying maybe from
my daughters house 1 mile away from Marina where I often fed crows and ravens cat food.
This raven/crow's feathers glistened in magestic dark bluish green hues. I'd caress its plumage but didn't not to ***** it
it wasn't my purring feline!
It deared trust me further  though pointing it's beak at my cup of water and it drank thirstily as I held it joyfully to its beak gently quietly as it drank;
then it pointed its beak
to the empty bag so I
appologized moved in regret
for no more food was in it.

My girl took photos of this awesome moment but she
never mentioned its greatness again my Rose simply said something unexpected to me
"don't feed crows in my home"
Jeff does't like them around!
and I felt her tongue's needle
also in my heart!
Such rare moment in time
a universe in itself!
time had stoped!
with a hungry raven/crow
this tender moment
lived only in my memory
without the pictures taken
untill now sharing one crow's gentle greatness and courage
to land close to one human
seeking food.
The graceful raven/crow's
encounter!
Rosie's own loving mom,
instantly reveared and
trusted BEST by a greatful intuitive trusting creature
a raven/crow!
How special it made me feel!
to choose me by the sea.
How deep my girl's comment
stung that since married
Rose behaves indifferent
where once tenderly moved!
wrongly misguided by
strange racist bad people 
Rosie"s hill billy superstitious
ignorant white trash in laws.
My evil ex's sister ugly snake
in every Mothers paradise
a "fat pig" she calls herself a Mansons advocate almost
turned me into a murdered pregnant Sharon Tate!
Lizz in the habit of arranging
calls to my three girls in laws, sons in law, my old boss at various employment
bussnessess a hate crime of old
saying my name and cursing them so I get fired then telling my girls nobody liked me at work either! brain washing them
and assassinating my character!
Lizzz since age 12 a drug user ******* to control rage in her brother two pees in a pod
my ex once told Lizz in a moment of lucidity;
"you'll never be half the
woman my Mexica-American beautiful wife is."
Since then my life is hell
No. I don't blame Lizz shes mad
I blame myself trusting her
hearless impotent brother
my grown girls are under their spell they mingle with vipers now
Surely even a courageous
greatful raven/cow has
more grace and common
sence to trust me Mom
to nourish and care for it.

This is my life in the big
apple USA
who wants my script!?
it's up for sale!
povery is a *****! please hurry.
or I'll be famous after death!.
~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
All Rights Reserved
Revised 4/2/19
(excerpt from my memoir!)
(AA/Bba/Asg. (proudly)
We all have snakes in our paradises
I am proud to make friends with raven/crows cats dogs poets and pietessess who read write and understand who is who and judge
not on greed the haves and have not i choose wisely between good evil criminal or victim I feel ballanced on the justice skale I am passionate stern but understanding forgiving and second chances appeal to me best.
Thanks for your time.
Victor Tripp Jul 2014
America written on your lady of liberty statue in new York harbor
You ask the tired poor weary those yearning to breath free
And we are here hiding in the silent shadow of that statue
Wating in articulate rage for our change to come
We cry out to you from the thousands in job lines
From the welfare lines and cheap bargain stores
While eating the corner store's high priced make-believe steaks
And bullet proof beans that make up our daily bread
The American dream for us is quickly becoming a home grown nightmare
Even while we're awake and slowly the great horn of plenty is running dry
For we are overworked,overlooked,underpaid,victimized
And forgotten in this land of the free and home of the brave
The money eagle still flies, but too high for the poor to catch
Blacks Whites Yellows Browns all sing the blues of hard times
Some off key and some on key Congressmen and city council legislate themselves higher salaries and less days to work along with longer vacations and more fun times
Democrats are doing it to their secretaries,while the Republicans are doing it to the Nation
Taxes are high and utilities too
The cost of living is going up while the chance at living is going down
Food stamps are cut in half as hunger cuts human throats
As our world turns people in other lands are watching us too
The want for a better life clings like a bad season
Povery's sorrow slides past the cheap wine inspired laughter
The stolen *** moments that blot out everything but the intense need
Can I get a witness?
Bibek  Aug 2017
In My Sleep
Bibek Aug 2017
A comfortable bed, with the fine touch of feathers,

The warmth of heaven, where my body would meander,

I could dream of anything, anything at all
Of beauty, of lust, of bliss, of all
Of happiness I have always wanted to clasp
But with these worn-out hands, povery is all I can grasp

I can dream of nature, that is wishing to pass through me
Of the tying clouds, with each turn turning gloomy

My hands can wrap over all of the flowers
Each of their petal, with my touch in delight
But with my shattered eyes, all I can give them is fright

Only in my sleep, I become a dreamer
While I am awake, I feel worse than the reaper

My scent disgusts even the winds
That break upon me
Like my shattered dreams

And though my dreams and my comforts are all in a nap
The stale street and its cold is all I can have
A poem on poverty and a person's resentment over his conditions
What the society thinks of him and what he thinks of himself

— The End —