I thought I saw the best in you but you brought out the worst in me I thought you were what I wanted but you were nothing near what I needed love and infatuation are two different things and obviously we weren't on the same page I was the front page headline and you were in the comics your games and lies that made me cry now lie in the obituaries just like my feelings for you
The world watches you fall, the largest proven oil reserves but you couldn’t call out to your brothers acknowledge your mistake so that you may grow.
You **** children, hunger grips every mother and fathers struggle with children of eight trying to earn a wage.
Your country is ****** up holding it pride to its chest waving the flag never admitting that their force has killed eight thousand or that their children are in hospitals starving.
Kenyerber Aquino Merchán, less than two starved to death because hospitals have no formula to feed the innocent.
Spine and rib cage protruding, mourners with wildflowers from the hills, and relatives cut out a pair of cardboard wings from empty white ration boxes.
Let you pass away, sleeping now under my wings, we’ll conger the wind and ease the president's pride, he is hiding under the cover cowering the corner - he has no one else to blame.
I broke down in tears writing this - I wrote it because of this article https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/12/17/world/americas/venezuela-children-starving.html - I don't know how to help because the president refuses to accept international help apart from loans from Russia which barely hold the country a float. So I did the only thing I know how to do to help - write.
news paper pages scatter along a ***** wind some caught in fences separating some free to climb into the forever of deep blue sky pure sunshine washed clean of the sins printed on its page only photographs remain a black & white image of the old man feeding pigeons along the empty path that lead him there
news paper pages forever silently burning in a collapse of worlds so old the smoke has died away pages with masterful words written never finding lips to uncage their meaning a beauty of phrase that has never faded a chain link barrier between what its long dead author spoke eloquently and the world disguised by years of dead dust only photographs remain a faded image of an old man walking the sunset a scattering of bread crumb's stretching back along his trail leading not into the living sky forever shifting between dark and light but into the dusty caverns of twilight forever twilight
by candle light he will pour over the things he never spoke wishing only for a voice once more a way to tell her about all those yesterdays ago the why's and whatnot's that he fiddles with like wooden toys ever more finely crafted never to knowing play never to escape the gathering dust
John wrote, I read the news today... He recounted accidents, wars, ***-holes. I did too... today. I read about charity runs, Music under the Bluewater Bridge, Teachers receiving National Awards. There are many sections to the paper I read through my wire-rimmed glasses. I'm getting older, all the time, So I avoid the nastiness with my morning coffee. Is killing terrorists good news? Oh boy! What would John read into that. We need some help! I may skip the news tomorrow, And make some holes To let the light in, The darkness out.
I don’t wanna listen! it was nice and all that but my heart broke along the way and three of its chambers are flooded. no handy man can fix it now. me and you.. IT don’ work! it’s not an oxymoron, nor an enigma ! no! the fact that I’m an ox, a *****, a pretentious ***** and you, an enigma.. that don’t change anything! we are unable to begin again. we made it once. we should be happy and look back in hunger. we were on the first page of newspapers but, somehow, we ended up in the matrimonial section – the place where poetry ends.