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Sindi Kay Oct 19
Preserve the past in me
Like a mummy I’ll bring my riches
to another world


My sabatoge is your secret weapon.

-Sindi Kafazi
Poetic T Jul 13
"I'm a father, and I don't do a few things.

A father doesn't babysit his kids,
            what are you part time?
Wake up, if your thinking this,
your not father material
                    your a ***** bank for hire.

I don't get drunk in-front of my kids,
                     you slurring your words.
Anger making you lash out.
           That's a problem,  you see
       love is kindness, not anger and grief.

"I'm a father and I do a few things right.

A father reads to his kids, imagination
            ignited in little minds.
    
"ROAR" went the dino baby as
    it showed mummy and daddy
its new voice that it found.
   Trees trembled and the earth
             did jump for this little dino
showed off the voice
                          "ROAR" it never knew it had.


A father looks after them when there sick.
                           Team mummy and daddy.

Snooty Maggie,
                    that's mummies section.
Green little monsters popping out of noses,
slim trails on white tissues, so gross.
                           Buggers make daddy heave.

Pukky Pedro,
now this is daddies area.
         scrap the chunks,  
         clean the sheets, give them a shower.
Now get the bucket, that rests next to the
                                                 little ones bed.
Sleep my baby, mummy and daddy are close.

A father is meant to show love,
                                    don't be a part timer.
Were meant to be proud of what we have or had
with the love of our life.
                        We created someone,
who will bring a smile to eithers face just with a look.
Ever since I could talk,
I have only ever given you gifts with my words -
you were my first, after all.
I never told you all the hateful things burning my tongue,
even though your own words made me want to scream
"I HATE you mummy!"
I never did it,
because I knew that it would hurt you more than your words hurt me.

I can remember curling up on your lap,
watching bad TV in the living room,
warm and safe and silly.
And every now and then,
when I thought you were feeling down,
I would wrap my tiny arms around you and say,
"mummy, I love you."
because I knew what I could mean to feel a bit of love every now and again.

'But, mummy, why did I have to grow up?'

I know that things got hard.
I know that a lot of it was my fault -
if not all of it -
but, mummy,
you don't have to be so **** mean.

I know that you were stressed,
and that I was depressed,
and that our family was still clearing the headache from the last SCREAMING match,
but why couldn't you just let me finish my - ?
... sentence.
I was going to say 'sentence', but you cut me off.
Again.
Why wont you just listen to your daughter when she says she needs you?
Why, mummy, is it what no matter how many times I say,
"mummy, I love you",
all you hear is,
"mummy, I hate you!"?

Tell me, mummy,
if you are really so wise,
who's fault is it that I cant just say,
"mummy, l love you" any more?
Who's fault is it that, now,
all I seem to say,
all I seem to cry is;
"mummy, I love you, but..."
for the last couple of years, my relationship with my mother has been somewhat rocky; as my mental health deteriorated we started to have more and more arguments, and this only resulted in more problems and worse arguments. I wrote this after an argument we have just had (09/05/2018) about insomnia and how I am coping with it.
I hope that in the future I will be able to look back at this and learn.
I bedded down with Frankenstein
I bedded down with Dracula
I bedded down with the Wolf Man
I bedded down with the Mummy
I bedded down with the Creature
from the Black Lagoon

and the end results
were a carbon copy
of fundamental flaws

hairy,
oozing with slime,
bloodsucking
homemade monsters
that wrapped me up in sheets
and laid me to rest
upon the catacombs
of their one bedroom apartments

but after feeling ghastly,
my decision making
became quite hasty
and acted
as if
I were the
Invisible Man
afterwards
Poetic T Oct 2017
Collecting them from the far reaches,
                   mother was hungry..

So the boys did what they did best
                                                      play..­.

Catch a wild one, never ****,
                                         prey is fun..


Mother smiled at our catches,
              she liked her food to scream.....
Poetic T May 2017
I'm three years old,
        my mummy asks me?

"What ya wanna be when ya grow up,

"A serial killer mummy,

After that she hide the knifes?

[Puzzlement] covered my face, now that's
a big word for someone who's three, spell
check if you want to see.....

"Baby you ok?

[Puzzlement,] "I know go me. She looked
as I did was this look was it somewhat
[contagious] "I know I'm three,

"Yes mummy I'm a cereal killer. I plunge
my spoon in to my breakfast till it seeps
milk then when I've finished I bury it.

"Bury it, yes in the bin mummy there
remains rot and make fertilizer.
"My mummy looked relived,

But I didn't tell her I bury them in the garden,
in the little black bags in the flower bed.
Decaying cereal feeding the flowers nourishment.
I'm three years old, cereal killer
oh my stars May 2017
In the arms of your mother you blink into the sunshine.
And her eyes glisten with the love she never imagined.
You've been a long time coming, little one.
She has waited for you for decades,
A timeless twinkle in her smile.
And she has suffered.
So much.
But looking into your eyes
She knows it's been worth it.
You were worth her pain.
You are all the love she has ever felt.
And all the love she never knew she had.
You have completed her.
And you will never know how much you mean to her
And how much she prayed for you.
How much we all prayed for you.
But you will always know how loved you are.

Welcome to the world, little one.
You're going to love it.
Welcome to the world Matthew James Alexander <3 03/05/17
Poetic T Feb 2017
All he wanted was a sunny day but those
clouds would just not go away.
He asked them politely;

"Excuse me sirs and madams  please would
you move away just for this one day,


You may ask the difference of clouds?
the madam clouds are purely white they
some times rain a little upon my head.

Where the sirs are the moody grey clouds,
I asked them to leave and now I'm soaked from
my tiny toes below to every part of my head.

"I beg your pardon, why did you only rain on
this one spot, only soaking me and no one else?


So I thought of a plan and got my mummy's
fan pointing it towards the sky, I turned it on
I thought it would take a while.
                                                      
   ­                                                     "A while later,

I looked up to find more clouds then there was
before? was it because I only used Number one?
so I turned up to the highest Number 3.
                                                        
     ­                                                        "A while later,

A look of confusion! as there seemed to be no
movement, but again more than before.
"Mummy I think your fan works in reverse,

So a little man thought, to his toy box he went.
Mummy I'll just be in the back garden, the wind
was blowing blustery, he smiled, its was just right.

Pointing his trusty bow upwards, thinking that
if he could pop one after another, they would
whoosh away and he would get his sunny day.

Away it flew, upward and onwards, so high
like a little bird flying then it fell faster than a
leaky balloon "Bonk, it went as it hit the floor.

This little man with frustration on his face,
thinking thoughts of what went wrong?
"I know I need to get higher up, clouds are high you know,

How many arrows would I need for a sunny day,
he looked in his arrow pack.
"One,
           "Two,
                    "Three..

That was enough he thought, they were quite heavy
to take up that rather big hill. Off he went, bow and
arrows and his idea of a sunny day not far away.

Out of breath but at the top of the world or so
it felt. "I wonder if I can touch the clouds?
His hand reaching up standing on his tip toes.

"I could pull them away, or put them in my bag for another day,
But alas he was just out of reach, his fingers couldn't
stretch that far, even on his little tippy toes.

So his arrows in hand, there little suction cups pointing
towards the sky. The first arrow off it flew quite far but landed
so way down the hill. "Not high enough, a tear in his eye.

Then Number two, Number Three shot off higher than
the ones he let go of before. But none could reach those
clouds up high, and he cradled his hand and began to cry.

Now the wind hears everything, voices carry on the wind
you know. It heard this little boys tears and couldn't let
them fall like the clouds anymore.

So it whispered to each one a favour it asked,

"Clouds of white, clouds of grey, could you please
wonder to another place for an hour or day?


"Just let this little child have his sunny day, no tears
should fall like the clouds hanging up today,


With that a gentle breeze picked up, and one by one the
clouds did wander off. One was stubborn grey, but with
a gentle nudge he did move slowly off and away.

A gust of wind kissed the boys face. Eyes wiped he looked up,
not a cloud in the sky, nope not one.Smiling he ran collecting
his bow & arrows as he ran down.

"Mummy, Mummy, the clouds have wondered off
the fan didn't work? my arrows couldn't go high enough.
But the breeze kissed them all away.


And so a little boy and his mummy went outside,
playing games in the sun, till the sun began to yawn  
on the horizon telling mummy it was time nearly for bed.

So a little man was tucked up in bed, he thanked the
wind, "Thank you, and thanked the clouds "Thank you,
For he got to play with his mummy outside on a sunny day.
Chris Neilson Oct 2016
In '85 I modelled my hair on Bono
YouTube "U2 Live Aid"
that was my look of choice
my credibility never made the grade

I worked in a rough *** warehouse
with men twice my age
my teenage angst and obstreperousness
regularly put them in a rage

One day I was wrapped in tape
bound up like an Egyptian mummy
thrown in an industrial waste bin
calling me a mullet head and dummy

Spun around and around
then left out on a road
my shouts for help unanswered
my temper set to explode

A passing engineer heard my wailing
and took pity on my plight
seeing me inside the *******
gave him a terrible fright

I was tipped out to the pavement
and freed from my imprisonment
I needed taking down a peg or two
but felt I was totally innocent

Today you would call it bullying
back then they said it was horseplay
I never forgot my mummified condition
I learned my lesson the hard way
A true anecdote
Poetic T May 2016
These kids did run around playful in chat,
the stories they told when bedtime called
and eyes meant closed shut.

Nannie came in, my littlest ones, eyes
are for closure for dreams to fill your
mind, now rest my smallest kids.

Morning my little ones now breakfast time
greets, drink your milk and chew you
greens the most important meal indeed.

Now go brush your hair no knots need
be seen, my little kids presentable and
clean. Now out and play stay close to me.

Inquisitive young ones, seeing things never
once seen. always wondering from sight till
nannie does call and running their seen.

"Sweet dreams my kids now I hope you brushed
your horns and cleaned your teeth,


So smart are these kids of mine, nannie smiles
as each one she kisses as eyes slumber to sleep.
I'm such a proud mummy who does love her kids.
Bed time story of a mummy goat [nannie] her babies [kids]
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