The burning sensation of those word were hard to digest
Sorrow, Tear, How ugly can I be
Black is Beauty I say…to whom they say
Midnight! Midnight!.. you are as dark as Midnight
I'm haunted by those words, As they stuck to me like fresh sap from a tree..
I’m drowning, I’m drowning, I can’t get free, those words will forever trail me..
They trailed me; they jarred me, Blackie Tutu! Blackie Tutu!
How can kids be so cruel using skin color as a tool
I held my own and stayed cool for I knew has long I was in this school my fate was doom.
Pickey-Pickey head! was the melody of the song
I listened allowing the word to sink into my soul
The beat made me sick and I knew this one would also stick
I Looked up to the sky wondering why
No! No! No! Woman don’t cry
Be an African and hold your pride…
Hands by my side, I held my head up high
I found the fight within me, Stone faced Killer bee
I faced the music and it set me free
On the attack I had them flee…using word to conquer thee
I carried on knowing freedom wasn’t free and then
Like bolt of lightning it occurred me
To defeat them I had to BELIEVE in ME
The bed is too short for a lie-in
The wife's dog owns the settee
There's a sun lounger out in the garage
But it's winter and 7 degrees
I can hear at least 4 kinds of music
A muted electric guitar
There's a scream like a broken Jet engine
That's the wife reversing the car
My son and his mates had a late night
I can smell beer and left-over curry
The kitchen will look like a bomb-site
Which won't get cleaned up in a hurry
The heating has just gone into turbo
Yes, there's someone else in the shower
Any minute now the alarm will go off … 'cos
I've been awake nearly two hours
It is the usual Saturday
Believe me I've been here before
It can make me tired and grumpy
And that's not what Saturdays are for ...
Two hours later and I'm startled!
Oh, I must have dropped off
There's an ominous silence around me
Like the whole spinning world has just stopped
I know they have gone out to be busy
The last thing they want is to rest
Gone shopping, breakfast or lunching
Leaving the old man to rot and the kitchen a mess
Me and the wife's dog we'll go walkies
Skim a few stones on the sea
He'll meet a few dog pals and eat a dead fish
And sit quietly down by my feet
On the way home we might call for a pint
Meet up with the lads and de-stress
I might even text with my love to the wife
Hoping her day is filled with success
Your favourite dinner I'll tell her
Tinned Pie, French fries and beans
And she will reply with a little red heart
And you know what that normally means
Plenty of time though to clean up the Kitchen
Detox the hallway, and sit on the Loo
And time left over for some sport on the telly
And a bottle of Cider or … Three!
It is my usual Dad-Friendly Saturday
With it's uptake on free-time and space
And tomorrow my wife will get her turn
And Her Sunday can take pride of place
She can cook dinner and Hoover
Catch up with her Soaps to her heart's content
I'll wander off to see the lads at the pub
And compare how our Saturdays went
Tommy Randell 01st December 2016
Night after night they'd fight
Fires and flames re-ignite
As Sparks of anger flared
She lived but dead scared
Next was waking dead to life
Yet again not too tired to fuel the strife
Atimes they were warm, atimes cold as mist
Sometimes apart, sometimes at heart
There were days they hated and days they kissed
Days of soothing the days of hurt
The flame as bright as the Sun
Died down to dim of a lantern
Even their ******* Son
Came to terms with that zigzag pattern
High was high and low was low
When's Dad was high there wasn't law
His Mama's weapons were claws
While earning real hard blows
Was what fate 'd served
What she deserved?
In the air lingered an aroma of temptation
To slay his papa and offer redemption
That became a prayer each Sunday
What he painfully did fulfill someday
I used to like you when you were dumb.
Then you smartened up and it pains me some.
You question almost everything I say.
You use these big words almost every day.
You really are making my brain cells hum.
You used to be **** when you talked.
You had this trampy twist in the way you walked.
You did everything I told you to do.
Now you want to try things that are new.
And at that, baby, I just have to balk.
I really do prefer the way you used to be.
You made sure to do things that pleased me.
Dinner was always right on time,
And serving leftovers was a crime.
Now meals are not the way they should be.
I used to be breadwinner around here.
That was one thing that was totally clear.
I gave you a weekly allowance to spend.
None of this going out for drinks with friends,
Now you have a job and sometimes you’re not here.
I think the cause of this is all this reading.
You think you’re getting smart is misleading.
You are getting a different attitude
And I think a lot of them are rude.
There are some basic truths you aren’t heeding.
So you should put the Bible on your list.
As a matter of fact, I really do insist.
It tells you I am the important one
And you are just a planet to my sun.
So it isn’t God’s will that you resist.
She was crying.
So he approached
to lessen the anguish,
her life has notched
He exchanged her tears
with his cozy smile;
to calm down her nerves
at least for a while.
The language of tears
has always appealed him;
as to the insects,
the sundew's gleam.
Innate was this nature of his
to weep for the poor,
for the women, for the children
and for the downtrodden, to be sure.
But with hollow chauvinism
then, the men ruled the society.
And accounted weeping as a sin
resulting from inferiority.
They disliked the boy
and his uncommon ways
to heal the sufferer,
to their utter dismay.
They called the boy
and asked him to change
his beliefs and ideology
or to be ready to estrange.
The boy couldn't understand
how his actions have been
outrageous in their view
and thus sentenced as a sin.
He stood against them
and let the proposal decline.
He advocated his logic
to those ****** swine.
But their ears were concealed
to even the rumbling thunder.
Intoxicated by masculinity
they committed blunder.
The men enraged
and reached for their knives.
They shouted, they cursed
and skinned him alive.
This was the tale of a boy who was said to possess magical tears - the tears which would lessen the agony of other people. He found pleasure in eliminating pain and grief from others' life but the so called males became intolerant towards his behavior and later murdered him for the same
Make me dress
To his appeal
Make me a magnet
Let me be an unholy thing
On your whim
Be my prince
On my bed
I’m sleeping now
Between your legs
Patron of the honest house
Enter through the backdoor
And let it be nothing more
— The End —