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ConnectHook Apr 2023
Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

                                                           Joni Mitchell

Fighting their wars in business suits
Blowing up peasant villages
Lying, While the Pentagon loots
Our failing empire pillages.

The wonder boys from Ivy Leagues
Look good on paper, making war
Their covert actions and intrigues
Exhibit what they tax us for.

Patriot boogey-man ** Chi Minh
Was armed by US in forty-five;
Then made the foe as we sent in
Our troops. And some returned alive.

The Dulles brothers, with their spooks
Testing strategies, had a ball
Dropping ****** on the *****;
Earth turned into a shopping mall.

And now, some puppet in Ukraine
(a Chinese laundry for their cash),
Requests more arms. So please explain
Before Crimea burns to ash.

That’s all. Their only long-term vision:
Body-counts— first bomb, then Starbucks.
Spectacles on television;
Do not question Daddy Warbucks.
inspired by recommended read:
JFK: The CIA, Vietnam and the Plot to Assassinate John F. Kennedy
by Fletcher L. Prouty
ISBN 13: 9781616082918
Kyle Dal Santo Apr 2021
You want me caged and collared, and I get it,
but such prisons work both ways
You see the wild animal in me?
Imagine it tearing you from the inside out
that’s every indecision, all of my mistakes
you call me dangerous, but there’s not much left
it’s more afraid of you - I’m more afraid of you
too busy attacking myself to bite you
you’re too busy hating yourself to blame anyone else
You have cycles? Well I have seasons
either way - who is the weak one, really?
Depression sessions in season, all sad Summer long!
(But you’re right - I am more dangerous)
I always was, you always knew it
I am broken/shattered/a thousand pieces,
broken pieces of a thousand broken mirrors
holding them so tight, blood leaking through my fingers
the sting, like all those times I bit my tongue
can’t trust my gut, because it always hurts
this sickness, for too long getting the best of me
clogging my arteries, raising the pressure
blogging my downfall, watching my balance crash
my mind getting slower, my memories fading
you can smell the desperate on my clothes
loneliness leaking, seeping out of my pores
my chest is burning up, head filled with pain
but just one more night, and I'll feel better
I’m fine, don’t look at me with those eyes
National Poetry Month Day 2
Virginia Apr 2020
Perceived perfection
So untouchable
Desperation grasping
Yet held far out of reach
Cherished in heartbreak
Preserved beyond embrace
Separation prevents
A sacrifice
With nothing gained

Presumed paltry
Defective at distance
Horrid by the mile
Yet proximity brings tranquility
Intimacy that
Mends the mirror
Seals the cracks
Rudimentary becomes
A sacrifice
Which gains everything
Poem 17 for National Poetry Month. This may evolve into a series, specifically on the forms love can take. Amusingly inspired by my reflections on a fan fiction I wrote in high school.
Virginia Apr 2020
I always had an affinity for bones.
Unbending, able to hold up the weight of lives,
Supportive, yet thankless, with little to show for it
but stress marks and fractures.
The occasional splash of calcium to
feign appreciation and sustain them.
At least until the flesh gives in to the parasitic bites of time,
Forgotten among skeletal strangers until they snap
or are exhumed.
I always wanted to be a bone.
Or perhaps it terrified me that it is my fate.
To be defined only by the context
made by those around me.
Excavating them from the landscape of their peers became a hobby.
I considered making a career out of it for a time,
but, well,
they try so hard to be the dirt,
you end up chipping right through them,
giving what little they have left to the flesh that feeds
off their surroundings.
And since they prefer to be dirt anyway,
putting them back together only
amplifies the guilt.
A futile puzzle against nature.
Identifying their remains only unites them
in mortal solidarity
with the dirt they beg to be.
Tarnished crystal skulls
impaired by the liquid brains
they once sheltered from birth.
I chose finally to polish those cherished bones
found by others,
pulled from the earth by reverent force.
A bone in denial,
polishing other bones,
posing ourselves to fit the mold
of newly defined flesh
in the open air.
Bent and rebirthed against will,
finally celebrated
with nothing left to show.
This was poem 1 for National Poetry Month, April 1, 2020.
Lately we drink
And then we talk,
And it’s perfect
Because I’ve missed
These conversations with you.

Lately we drink
And then we talk,
And then I get caught in my
Feelings because I don’t
Think I’m enough for you.

Lately we smoke
And I fall asleep,
And when I wake to
Your back to me, I pray
You didn’t fall asleep lonely.

Lately we smoke
And you fall asleep,
So I smoke some more
Because there’s a sadness
Brewing that I can’t explain.

Lately we ****
Instead of make love,
And it feels so good,
But I crave the raw love
You showed me the first time.

Lately we ****
Instead of make love,
And you moan in your dreams.
I stay awake at night
Hoping you’re dreaming of me.

Lately I think
And get stuck in my head;
Dangerous terrain.
My emotions flip and
Play tricks on my brain.

Lately I think
And get stuck in my head,
And allow my insecurity
To become reality,
Instead of using rationality,

And I’m so sorry.
Shadow talk about
Z  o  n  i  n  g out
Like I’m not haunted
By its icy ghosts.

Fingers hold my eyes open
To memories of the last time,
Ones I’d hoped to
Never feel again.

I remember that my heart
Imploded, and my bones
Crumpled under the pressure
Of guilt, or pain, or shame.

My skin peeled back to
Reveal bleeding muscle and
Torn heart strings, still
Trying to play a happy song.

My eyes turned broken
Faucets the night he left
And I was so sure
He would never come home to me.

I stayed awake as long as
The lights stayed on,
And fell asleep trying to
Convince myself he still loved me.
A silent look lingers,
Blurred to your angel face.
You tell me you can’t
Handle the stress anymore,
(Don’t you know how hard I’m trying?)
That it’s taking a toll.
(You think I don’t already know?)

A flood of tears held back
By dams behind my eyelids.
The anchor in my throat
Has me screeching to a halt.

You tell me that
Everything I once had, I can
Get it right back,
(Don’t you remember how unhappy I was?)
Because you can’t bear the weight.
(I see how unhappy you are.)

White flags high up;
Toasts from empty cups.
I’d give my life to
Ease your strain.
(Don’t you know how much I’ve prayed?)
Wake up and my
Head is cracking
Like Kentucky pavement.

Foggy and frustrated;
(At what?)
**** this, **** that.
Morning ******* *****
Worse than Kentucky pavement.

Coffee caresses my nostrils
And lures me to the kitchen
By hand. Inhale deep
Like the first drag of a stress cig.
              I’m a brand new *****.
Charles Vorpal Apr 2020
The Internet arrived; they are confused
"Do not trust everything you read online!"
They warn us sternly, and even threatened
To take away and ban us from the computers
The technology advances, oh so, so very fast
Gone is the concept, of a single shared home PC
The smartphones, the laptops, the tablets etc.
Took the world by storm, and we are all amazed.
And then... Remember what those boomers told us?
About being skeptical and fearful of online information?
Guess what those hypocritical ******* are doing now!?
Fake news fake news fake news fake news fake news!
You nonetheless heed their advice, and learnt fact-checking
Yet, gods forbid you try to "show off" with your evidence!
"Aiyah, I only forward what was shared to me. I'm just caring"
"It seems harmless, so what's the problem??"
My absolute favourite must be...
"Don't talk back to me! Don't you disrespect me! Be silent!
Don't try to show off how smart you are!
I ate more salt than you have eaten rice!
If you don't believe this, just shut up!"
Gods bless Asian parents
What to do... What to do...
#napowrimo #napowrimo2020 #fakenews #asianparents #poets #writers #poems #poetrycommunity #NationalPoetryMonth #false #asianpoets #poetry #factchecking #iamboey
Charles Vorpal Apr 2020
I am said to be majestic
That my presence is blessed
Is it though? I question it
They say I symbolise eternity
As if... that is praiseworthy
They merely fear death, thus
They project their fantasies
Upon me, my "holy" flames
They know not, nor care
That I am cursed, forever
Cursed, I say! Cursed! Cursed!
Each time I cry in anguish
Hoping my tears are enough
To cool the flames of my soul
As my life painfully burns
Yet, you are confused
You actually believed
That there will be beauty
To arise from my ashes
This is a neverending cycle
Am I still me? Is the past real?
When this happens again
Will the new "me" still be me?
The best dreams I ever have
In which I am dying, truly dying
The end, the ultimate finale
I'm tired, I wish to rest
Sing me to sleep, then leave me
If this happens, if I break this cycle
Do not feel bad for me; know this
I will finally be free, to go home
And know true bliss and peace

NaPoWriMo prompt  -favourite bird
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