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You are not coming home
You're only visiting mine
The path I've carved to the bone
With my blood and sweat
When you left me behind

We're expecting connections
From two dead cells
Yet there's not a flickering light
No prospective spark to find

I want the best of both worlds
Knowing I've driven you away
While coping with the anger and confusion That leads me astray

I don't need restitution.
I don't seek retribution.
Here I see no resolution.
Let there be no delusion.

Perhaps there's a part of me
That will always care
About what you think or how you feel
But honestly it's hard for me to be real
When the wounds never mutually heal

My heart is repealed
Until your story's revealed
Maybe when Hell freezes over
Or pigs grow wings and fly
Suffice to say

I've grown older
Fulfilled in my own ways
Chasing epiphanies and revolutions
I've become colder
Concealed in my own space
Now I've found the ideal solution

Simply (smile)
Give you an illusion
This poem is dedicated
Before my deoxyribonucleic code has been sent
To my mother by a male parent,
I was on his land of sand,
As barely apparent.


(spermicide)


2. Then, I was finally sent
Into my female parent,
On another land,
Barely planned.


A couple of months went that I spent
In my mother's abdomen rent
On that green land,
Barely planned.


Then, my rentee went to that land,
Flying to the land of crescent
Where I was to be meant
For a big moment.


(embryonic)


5. The event happened, the end of the rent,
Under the flag with the red crescent;
I was by a Jewish name penned,
On the fifth May after Lent.


Falling into my mother's hand,
Still without any dent,
Back, I was re-sent
To motherland.


On that land, red in discontent,
White until the Lent's end,
And green at Lent,
I had one parent.


I had no knowledge when he went,
But I was without a male parent,
With only two women, a grand-
And an abnormal parent.


His furious leaving left an advent
As my mother madwomaned
With a schizophrenic scent,
To madhouse "never" sent.


The balance keeping us under tent
Was our draconian grandparent
With an infinite financial grant
That let us live on that land.


For alms, we walked to granny frequent',
And I loved her as my parent
For that little attachment
I barely experienced.


The further notions I experienced:
I was sent and sent and sent;
Nursed, schooled, churched,
And kindergartened.


But even before my childhood could end,
I found myself hard to befriend;
Playing the play of a dement
With an unmatched brand.


A playful kid, maybe too vehement,
Among others, a crazy element,
I was, but inside silent,
Over-vigilant.


I liked to observe others' comportment;
What was that I have been meant,
What made me outstand
Like an alien, mutant.


Step by step, I wished the end
Of flying dishes and plant'
At my domicile rent,
End of the torment.


(pubescent)


17. I wished to vanish from the torment
Of social-antisocial banishment,
But I saw no escape slant,
Only in my poetic lament.


Though, before those sad lament,
I tried to see my life and mend
My heart with compliment,
Some failed love event.


Minutes, days, months and years went,
A lot of school skills that I learnt,
But the best one in my hand
Was the ability to pretend.


Even if I swam well in crosscurrent,
I wished to end, leave that land;
Searched by my male parent,
I planned to visit his land.


Then, my mother went to madhouse mend,
For what, I was by my university banned
To work that went well, but I meant
To start or end a life in sand.


(twentified)


22. So, as my twenty-first birthday present
Finally, I Africanly citizened
To know my descent
And the crescent.


Beyond the French and Arabic accent,
I manned myself on that land
Where I was landed and
It's not yet ended.


Changing the cross to crescent,
I could be happy and...
But people prevent
Every event.


I'd been married as I planned,
But my fam is an accident
As my birth in an extent,
In this actual land.


What to do, socially I try to pretend
That I am indeed an element,
But my DNA was meant
To disappointment.


(at present)


27. Seen these verses, it's abhorrent
As well as writing a lament,
But as a birthday present,
I wish a Happy - End.
My only birthday gift as usual, from me to myself.

03.02.2019.
Yitkbel Oct 2019
A void suddenly formed deep in the rolling sea
Calls for a deafening wave to take its place
And thus all these words I write to you
A thundering protest of the deserving silence

Sometimes, unconditional love comes at a price
An unfortunate price of utter undesirability
Ever quiet and misplaced, a bore and afraid
I come with such devotion till it's burdensome

You may have, like all, wished for a love that
Will always be there, never run away, without
Ever realizing the consequences of such a
Chasing and desperate devotion until you've

Swam in the ennui of this wide empty sea
An ocean without much scenery but always
Calling for you in the same nauseating waves
You must leave and find a landing place

How will you ever explain without mockery
The tattered fool that will always be there
To comfort you with an aching bare soul
Without ever needing anything back from you

Like they all say, the best must be chased
And yet just like the pebble to the gold
I'll be here for you till the time grows old
With your silence, bleeding, withering, fading

Again and again, in love with this pain
You're the lighthouse to my ocean
Ever trying to reach for your embrace
But always breaking and dying away
What pain it is to have dreams and expectations.
I had planned to read today,
Having no faith in the longevity of my words,
But there's no quiet for this soul.
The words writhe in the churning sea of my mind,
and
It overflows beyond my control!
And for what,
It's not divine, or unsaid
Written to one, unread by all.
Perhaps, as the glory lies within suffering,
This is my mission, to be
Loudly unheard, and still
Singing unrelentingly to all!
What is love, without patience in suffering,
What is suffering without pain?
There are truth and devotion in my lament,
A testament of my bearing the constant silence,
Yet still sing devotedly forever
For the suffering Nevermore.
---
No Quiet for This Soul
By: Yue Xing Yitkbel ****
Date written: Friday, October 4, 2019 6:52 PM
Steve Page Sep 2019
This is my lament for London and its young lives lost:


Did you see a tarnished surface
that made you look again
Was it reflected in the lyrics
in the anthem of the Thames

Was the traffic still diverted
Had the Borough lost good men
Were mothers dry from crying
at the anthem of the Thames

Did you see the children drowning
Was the tide too high from rain
Were the barges towed in silence
past the anthem of the Thames

Were the songs drowned out by shouting
Did the words turn boys insane
Did the drum beats beat past midnight
to the anthem of the Thames

Was it echoed through the arches
Did the shadows hide the stains
Did the wounded walk til morning
through the anthem of the Thames

Will you still be here at day break
Do you claim this grey domain
Will you pray for restoration
of the anthem of the Thames
Yes, a repeat from last year.  More reports of men killed with knives.
Esther L Krenzin Sep 2019
oh lord
i promise to be good
and true to my word
i promise to look people in the eye
and treat them with the respect they deserve
i promise to try harder
be stronger
and less fragile
grant me this plea
this prayer in the stillness of my heart
just give me one more day to live
one last chance to see the sun set
one final chance to make amends
and say all that twists itself tight in my throat
i beg you to spare me
i thought i wanted death
i wanted it so badly my lips were bitter with tears
it seemed better than facing the world
it seemed easier than facing myself
and the ones i claim to love (yet hurt so badly)
wouldn't everyone be happier
if i just disappeared
into the night
onto the welcoming cement so far below
it beckoned me
and
i
  threw
   myself
    into
     its
      arms
it is only when i struggle to draw breathe
that it hits
and ravages whats left of me
i realize i wanted to grow old
and watch my children prosper
i wanted to stare out at the world one day
and smile at what i saw
i wanted to live for all that i was to gain
and lose
so what if it hurt
so what if i was broken
so what if it was hard
it was still a gift
one that i had wasted so thoughtlessly
lord
if you are there
do not judge me when i come before you
i wanted wanted reprieve and looked for it in all the wrong places
and it was my demise
Esther L. Krenzin
A wandering souls lament
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2019
.
We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,
                                                      ­  ­        
Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.
.
aih Sep 2019
I carry my heart in a tight grip
With a melody, a symphony
That trembles out my lament
Of longing to be who I used to be
In hopes I change my path
To the one I am meant to be.
onlylovepoetry Sep 2019
“never lament casually”

Leonard Cohen


the serious are plenty burdensome,
so if the flight delayed, or the device batteries,
moments away from recognizing that
0% is still a viable digit with a special meaning,
these, none deserving of deploring the human condition

but the weight of leaving her in cold Montreal,
while old promises made, demand a presence in L.A.,
freezey veins, icy cracking inspiration attempts in vain,
all the unrecognizable for crying out loud verses on a
cocktail napkin scribbled, watching ink letters wet melting

your wants simplest, fireplace warmth snap cackling
pop love songs verses for her, the sheets of her dark skin,
silken on your tongue, the wetness of her Oh’s,
left a connect-the-dots map from your nose to toes,
but her fingertip markers, now a thousand miles away,
busy throwing up to the sky, hands filled with leaves of
crisp falling colors assortment, only the colorless no’s left

they play a tune you wrote years ago on the lounge speakers,
modified, wordless, so it’s innocuous, background harmless,
this axes paper cuts on your private places where the songs get
birthed, and now your whole package is tonnage measurable,
the lamentations serious, serious constellations, etching a new song


<>

“for the relearning is the crown jew-el,
that jesters rob from their kingly masters,
pride in love is the fall season preceding
Canadian winters, always thinking
you know better, be better at keeping warm,
this time which is the next time

you cannot learn from love,
cause it’s twice, two times,
never the same,
past lessons ain’t no prologue,
the body is maybe in the wafers,
sometimes vanilla,
sometimes chocolate

and the epilogue is
100% of the  poem~songs
that I loved writing
and hate remembering

9/10/19
Jay M Sep 2019
Whispering through a window
A specter in the cemetery
Basking in the pale moon lit dreary
Wisping silken clothes
The blood yet flows
The air of dimly dew
Single crow then flew
O'er the rosemary bush
The wraith say shush
Not to disturb
For which you may perturb

That ghastly ghoul
O what a fool!
To disturb that
Which you may perturb!
Casting it out
Like water from a spout
Gone away
No longer shall it stay.

- Jay M
September 10th, 2019
Colm Jul 2019
My Goldberry

My heart runs dark as blue berries
For you and for your inevitable change

With soft and growing orange light
With cool water wandering skies
You are all of me and as much mine

My Goldberry
Would you never stop
And always change though you needn't try

I give to you my conscious though
And you give to me
Your mercurial eyes

The way of seasons past like our memories passing by
His hat is blue. His boots... Yellow.
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