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 Mar 2015 Shannon
Traveler
Sweet Gypsy May
Oh what can I say
With the gift of the gods
Divinely displayed

Every look into mine eyes
A sinking heart abandons time
Shades of amber golden shines
In her world without confines

Words lost, knocking knees
My heart is skipping beats
Short black hair
I feel a bit queer
For if she were a he
Not sure I'd care

Her smile drains
My burdens dry
As I watch her leave
My soul asks why...
 Mar 2015 Shannon
ShamusDeyo
The Son
 Mar 2015 Shannon
ShamusDeyo
In earlier times a Daughter was born
Who carried the welts of a belt
An oath of no children
By the Mother was sworn

Ten years went by
An she agreed to one
But you must never
Lay a hand on my son

The man felt afronted
By the Oath on his head
But agreed to the terms
His wife had said...

The son was born on
A hot august Morn
But the oath on his head
Was the Mans Scorn

As the Boy grew older
All of 8 years old he
Was told his mother ill
Her Failed sight ner seen

The Boy Had to help
The mother to cook
Taught by her
From recipe books

The Man owned a factory
Where each day he must be
After school his time
Was never free

He must clean
The factory floor
And haul the Rubish
Out the door

By 9 he was working
with 16 ft boards
To help make the slats
That paid for our Board

When ever the boy talked
Of what he had learned
He was ridiculed by the father
And vicously Spurned

He was called
Insane and stupid
Told he belonged in a
Mental institution

He was told
He was a slacker
That nothing he
Did was ever right

The Spite and the Hatred
built Day upon Day
His father argued
With all that he'd say

By 12 the Boy had
Longshoremans
Syndrome, from the
weight of the work

As his spine was growing
It bent the spine as it formed
The Raging went on day after day
The abuse heaped on the head of the Boy

When Finally he left
With his back to the door
For 2 years they never
Heard from the Son

Till he missed
Them and called
2 minutes it took till
The father started again

The son slammed
Down the phone in tears
And wasn't heard from
For another year

Through all of this from 5 years old
He'd been ***** by an older boy
And Held it all within Him
Afraid of his Father he never had told

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
I am setting here in tears thinking how hard this was to write. its the events of the story of my life but I survived

My Sister said that even though she was beaten she never had it as bad as I did for her the beating would end but for me it was unending verbal abuse

At the Factory one of the Machines could kick back wood shards at the speed of a bullet and embed them in 1 1/2 inch sheet rock wall behind the operator, 2 ppl went to the Hospital with wood completely through there hand sticking out both sides... Also I had to run the paint sprayer without a mask the Paint being thinned with Leaded Gasoline for me to breath
 Mar 2015 Shannon
nivek
who would be worthy to be able to speak in the face of your poetry
and your life is poetry and your life in all its fullness is sacred
Sacred before all crime and sacred with all crime a poem unique
there is no ending and no beginning where love rules supreme
where the fragility and puniness of Mankind stops brothers loving
love still rules supreme.
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