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Mark Toney Dec 2019
genealogy
family tree treasure hunt—
come to your census
12/9/2019 - Poetry form: Senryu - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Toxic yeti Apr 2019
Why do I want to
Learn Tibetan
Why do I want to
Lear dazongka
Why do I want to learn
Sherpa
And uyger
To connect to my
Ancestors.
Escape from captivity pulled off
     when I came of age
boyhood begrudged,
     and bested by brigandage,

but willpower sans declaration
     of independence begot bravery
     against British brutes
     bridging caper (involving collusion)

     to bust loose from cage,
and trappings forcibly to plunder artworks
     and sculpted treasures
     by classical masters

     without causing damage
taught by professional thieves
     requiring minimal equipage
whereat over time footage

sordid memory constantly replayed
     plunder and pillage unwittingly
     fostering getaway
     from hell raising gambits

     planting seed to gauge
optimal instance cut footloose
     cutting dashing Dickensian goniff
     to feign criminal shenanigans
running rampant with militant spunky gangs

     "FAKING" das spies zing
     trumpeting hostage killing
and taking, nonetheless
     swallowing bitter pill

     reeking havoc as honorable image
in order to survive
     within world wide
web of criminals (especially

     an unwelcome foreigner),
     where skills as buccaneer
     really put to test, and tried
maximum lawlessness partaken

     in (dolled up) guise suppressing shied
pitifull looking indigent vagabond
     self away by donning
     "FAKE" whippersnapper
     benefiting getting to sally and ride
always exuding patriotic pride

pleasing ghosts of founding fathers
against their autonomy from
     crown weathering woe be chide
recrimination impossible

     to enforce as bride
of Lady Liberty opened arms for those,
     who made dangerous journey
across avast ocean

     only to confront (whodunit) thuggery
this lifestyle ******, looting,
     and burning WITHOUT choice,
     but guilt aye didst abide.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Retrospective many generations since
     marking birth of a nation
(The United States of America),
     now mecca, sans land of milk and honey
     current president imposed antithetical ration!
Kurt Carman Apr 2016
On this hillside where the homeless rest
The Song Sparrow bursts into psalm,
Reciting beautiful exclamations to the heavens above
For the forgotten souls that are concealed below.

In this place called Potters Field lay one million souls
Unknowns from 200 years ago....more & more arriving everyday.
Nestled thickets of wild trees hold these memories past and
Shadow the headstones with prayers inscribed.

How could one small place hold so many forgotten souls?
How could we have forgotten those less fortunate than us?
Saint Benedict's tear filled eyes scan the field
As he try's to to make sense of what has happened.

Lift up your eyes New York and make your voices heard.
Don't let their memory fade away.
God holds a special place for these children because....
In the Kingdom of God....
                                 The last shall be first.

K.E Carman 2016
Hope you'll read this NY Times article.........http://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/05/nyregion/allowed-to-visit-her-babys-grave-after-12-years-a-woman-is-told-your-son-isnt-here.html?_r=0

I must tell you that I had to stop often through out the article to wipe the tears from my eyes. I write this poem in memory of little Anthony DeJesus. God has taken your broken body and made you whole again sweet boy!
Kurt Carman Mar 2016
As I peer across the Mountain range of my life,
I see a vast array of peaks and valleys,
Roads that wander near and far.

Some roads seemed unsurpassable,
Some roads were thought to be inconceivable,
Some roads I felt were unapproachable,
And I see them all as landmarks in my life.

The one road in the very middle of my lifescape,
The one that's known for being less traveled,
I so often avoided and I don't understand why.

Some roads seemed impossible,
Some roads were thought to be infallible,
Some roads lead to intimacy,
And I see them all, good or bad as milestones in my life.

Standing at the base of the mountain top,
I feel a presence encouraging me to climb the summit.
My breathe becomes heavy, my limbs are numb but my mind is focused.

Advancing the summit, I pull myself above the misty clouds,
Peering below I find oceans of generations that have gone before me....but were never forgotten,
And one stands at the forefront, with arms outstretched, an unforgettable smile, and love thats unending.

There's only one road that leads us to an island universe where we live on forever past fatality.
All roads have the same waypoint which leads us to forever.
Close your eyes and imagine a place that does not judge and only loves.

K.Carman 2016
Miss my mother everyday. Leaving us at 45 years old was the day my world stopped. Now I look forward to our reunion. I love you Mom!
Olga Valerevna May 2015
To move through genealogies
consider what it takes
The blood of those before
you filled with all of their mistakes
And what you've given into will uncover how you came
A sort of inquisition to eradicate your name
I called myself "the others" if I staggered or destroyed
Made everything inside of me
so purposely devoid
If not by my own doing
then by those whom I had known
To whom I was connected, thought, believed I could call home
Today's a separation
I have never known before
Or one that I'd forgotten
since I leveled with the floor
There's nothing on the bottom but I cannot seem to look
Much further than the dirt of earth, the silver that I took
The people are in pieces
and my head tries to compare
So often I can only find
the source of our despair
I go to bed in cycles
I can barely seem to keep
Awake so long I wait for dreams
to make me fall asleep
If anyone can see me or engage my busy head
I'll breathe before I speak again, let life be what is said
what is won, what is lost - what will stay, what is tossed

— The End —