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Wordsu Nov 2024
Everyday I look in the mirror and see your face.
SHAME, SHAME, SHAME!
That is all I can see,
All I can hear,
FEEL!
Throughout the night I cry wondering why,
As I wait for sun to rise, I do as you please,
Pretend to be at ease.
But why? Why do I have to follow what you want?
Why is it always my fault?
Why am I always to blame?
For your mistakes, your hate, YOUR PAIN?
How is it a child’s fault that your life is not a certain way?
When will you take blame?
For the bruises, the heartache, THE SHAME!
The shame that I must keep each day.
Why should I, the child,  
Feel shame because of your mistakes?
While you run around the world,
Free of blame.
Pardoned by those around because our pain is “not” the same,
When will you pay?
For the trust you betrayed,
For childhood YOU turned into pain.
One day the shame will be on you,
And the child you failed will be free of your chain.
I wrote this for a speech I had to give on how detrimental child abuse is the abuser is the child's parent, the person they are supposed to trust and believe in.
Skylark 12 Nov 2024
In sweat and blood they birthed the stones.
Their backs bent in a dimly lit choreography,  
they strained to hoist the ashlars into place.
Thirty-six years in a most sacred guild,
they each apprenticed the other.

Their aging bodies lust for sleep,
but it runs from them into the cold night.
Lying there, limbs entwined for warmth,
their calloused fingers touch scars,
which mark the years on their rounding frames.

They remember the works of their labors.
The six structures on which they’ve toiled.
Their six children raised with hope.
The six cathedrals in whom they pray,
both their memories and Christ will dwell.
Sara Barrett Nov 2024
Growing up, a girl watches, learns,
The truths of boys and men—
so often unturned.

“Boys will be boys,”
a phrase we know,
implying girls must shoulder the load.

Girls mature fast,
women pick up the cast—
an unspoken burden, a silent decree:

Bear the weight of their irresponsibility.

In a world gripped by misogyny,
women face judgment,
their futures unclasped.

Absorbing shame for games they play,
men walk away, free to go their way.

Homes abandoned,
men now free,
their true selves unknown.

Disgrace drapes women—a heavy yoke,
neglect shatters hope.

Promises unkept,
fathers vanish as children wept.
Guilt escaped with practiced ease,
duty dodged, a ghost on the breeze.

Children and wife he never knew,
society laughs at the pain he withdrew.

Children carry his woes—
identities shaped by the hurt he chose.
Shame shouldered early,
remembering blame.

Love claimed,
but never there.
Strain felt in his name,
unfairness echoes.

Abandoned women and children grow—
a daunting endeavor men overthrow.

Shadows linger, burdens remain;
a future carved where hope will maintain.

Every struggle faced—a dawn,
strength carries on.
The poem “Left To Carry His Name” delves into the profound burdens that women and children endure as a result of men’s irresponsibility. This poem critiques the societal norms that enable men to escape accountability while women are left to shoulder the emotional and social consequences of abandonment. Through vivid imagery, it conveys the shame and struggle experienced by those who are left behind, underscoring their resilience as they strive for a brighter future. As the second piece in a series focused on gender roles and family dynamics, this work invites readers to reflect on how we can confront and change these deeply ingrained societal expectations.
Kitty Downing Nov 2024
I've always been soothed
By the sound of the sea
You both arrived with waves of pain
And crashing of water
Perhaps that's why I'm soothed
By the two of you

The steady blink of a lighthouse
Anchored to the bed
Until you had to come out
A knife to the sand dune of my belly
I couldn't feel my legs
But I could feel you

A tiny hand, a star fish over my heart
Holding on as we were cast adrift
To navigate unchartered waters
Sometimes it felt like we were going under
But you were always there on my chest
The swell of the waves
Up, down, up, down

It seems a life time ago
Those stormy nights, milk drunk, lost
We've built castles, moats and skimmed stones
I have always been soothed by the sound of the sea
And I hope that the two of you
Will always be soothed
By me
Àŧùl Oct 2024
Really,
'Twas exciting,
How I planned her birthday,
And along with her other friends I did that,
To surprise her the next day,
'Twas exciting,
Really.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

We were all colleagues and batchmates,
Teaching underprivileged kids,
Those kids at Swapan,
Yes it was,
Exciting to teach 'em,
We felt responsible & fulfilled,
I even felt that she was the one for me.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

We trained our students to sing a song,
Of course the birthday song,
They were happy,
I was too,
For her, that was,
Her girl friends tasked me,
So, I brought a birthday cake for her.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
My HP Poem #2013
©Atul Kaushal
Ken Pepiton Oct 2024
Choice shells sold sorted sweet and sour.
aaand we nevee lived, but in the desert,
so we guessed
at what the salt's for,
we assumed the sop was
vinegar's for dippin's our first guess.

This is political persuasion, right?

Republic, right
we 'as been called to pre
serve that very same virtue-ish
mankindly thinkable true proven rules.
old philosophia true love
above this drab duty we loyalists
weary our way through, standing
at attention, sayin' not a word,
ai, as if we be the very guardians
of royal lies
about Jehovah's choices
in chosen Nuclear war operators.

"But Socrates wants to show
that there are further considerations
to emphasize the higher pleasures
of the just life:
not merely peace
of mind, but the excitement
of pursuing knowledge, produces
an almost godlike state
in the human being.---"
https://www.pursuit-of-happiness.org/history-of-happiness/socrates/

some minutes
beyond beginning,
thinking this day amazing,
ai, a thread,
from a lost chord, may hap
cross wire at a capacitor impressed
full umpht, sputter,
sparked internal combustion,

oh, hell yes, this is that, doit, init, intuit
pfft/ mater/antimater, umpht pa,
phissss
per haps as happens, happenings as such,
always seem
to cause some wins, and same so,
cause
about as many losses.

Woe, though be,
to me, I guess,
eventually, it is a whole lotta fun,

Ag me on,
we have a dis agreement, just here

Soon enough this pleasure will
become neutral as I adjust
to my new condition. Nearly all
of our pleasures are relative like this,
hence they are not purely pleasurable.

Another example would be the experience
of getting high aiaiai
on drugs:
this can produce a high state
of pleasure
in the short-term, but then will
inevitably lead
to the opposite state
of pain.
--- oy vey and yada yada yada\ I'm quoting

inevit-able, hiccups,
in my motor skills, vino,
in excess-elcius,
trusting qwerty guy
to get us through the trials

and at tempts, at tensions, at this point, highly
skeptical as
to utility, save the enjoyment
akin
to that little joy, young Dodgson
took as granted, his,
to use,
to tell us
all that he could imagine inspiring.
Ah, and then, this,

Ever after upto just now,
Wonderland, and oyster stew.

Ai, art indeed, this happened, just now, indeed.

Instant wisdom, hesitant mediation,
aha and aum, in the manner of TV Ginsburgian
augmentation of McLuhan's sorrow, that as of yet
you know nothing of his work…

the effort to be smarter than anyone else,
bet on the royal flush dealt to the lonesome loser.

My hand, who could imagine, I'd bet my life.
Charles Dodgson and Lewis Carroll, in a facsimile version, with the typesetter's masterpiece phi swirl at the mouse's tale... indeed we live in magical days.
Traveler Oct 2024
What if we don’t choose sides
of each political and social situation being presented in these end times?

Can we just witness these atrocities without reacting or allowing ourselves to be pulled into the drama?

How about a call to peace instead of revenge?

The experience of childhood is the richest gift life has to offer.
The gift every child on earth deserves served with a heart of gold.
TT
Everyone on earth deserves dignity.
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