Parents to take our responsibility
Siblings to carry our roller-coaster emotions
Friends to co-create the madness we are
Relatives to form our extended safety networks
Spouse to satiate our mental, physical and lonely desires
Kids to give us those safe & positive vibes for future
Influentials and celebrations to realize our existence

But how about having one nameless relation?
One that doesn't mandate responsibilities?
One that doesn't burden expectations?
One that is Fearless, Formless & Weightless?
One that is 'Carelessly Caring' ?
Randy Johnson Mar 17
She was 79 years old when she passed away.
She was my aunt and her name was Ina Mae.
When a relative passes away, it's always sad.
Ina Mae was the only blood aunt that I had.

She was special and she was Mom's only sister.
Many people loved her and many will miss her.
She was a wonderful lady and a loving mother.
She had a bond with her five kids who loved her.

She was a human being who can never be replaced.
She and mom are in Heaven which is a better place.
When she died in 2017, it was bleak.
Ina Mae was both special and unique.
Dedicated to Ina Mae Dooley (1937-2017) who died on February 24, 2017.
Emmy Feb 27
I don’t know what I’m looking for
But I’m looking for something
And I keep ending up back at
“Everything is nothing”
Which means that nothing is something
And the thoughts refuse to stop coming
I know there’s no running

I cant escape being in this ring
Forever feeling like every direction is a haphazard swing
I can’t see a thing
Feeling like society’s puppet on a string
There’s a list I keep, sorta sloppy neat
But God tells me, “take a seat”
I yell back, “that’s no easy feat”

I don’t understand what all of this is for
Life feels like a game, except I can’t score
I can’t open the fuckin door
They wanna say, “when life closes a door, it opens a window”
But all I see is a shit show
That’s not to say, I don’t see the beauty in how a river flows
That’s not to say, I don’t see the beauty in how the same river froze
You can tell me I’m dramatic, that I wallow in my throes
And yeah Lil Uzi told me, “that’s the way life goes”
But I’m fed up with everyone’s prose
I don’t want to believe that’s really how it goes

And so I sit with Robert Frost
At his two roads, curious at how he tells me he’s actually not lost
How it’s not left to the probability of a coin toss
That everyone just wants to be their own boss
Pretending that they aren’t nailed to their own cross

I don’t know what I’m looking for
But I think maybe I’ve been playing the game wrong
That there is no score which could lead to more
All I’ve got is a case of nothing being something
And that’s really nothing more
Than “everything is nothing” for sure.
Leah Oviedo Nov 2017
.Digging for my roots,
Through fragrant soil,
Rocks scrape my wrists,
Moving deeper,
Entangled in the maze,
Rich with the past,
My ancestors are lost in the dirt,
Their names forgotten, but they are there in my DNA,
Marking me with their gifts, their trauma, their choices,
I am not one,
I am many.

11/2017 by Leah Oviedo @
girl diffused Oct 2017
Sleek dark hair
Highlights of auburn, color of fall
Stern lips
A look of austerity in the dark russet eye
Skin lighter than my own
The smaller wrist
Large eyes
Faint deepening crow's feet
Nursing knowledge
Small, short, slight, petite, and strong
Maternal vanguard
Beautiful and earthly
Scorpionic elusiveness
Her unused canvas
Frequent Homegoods purchased
Shifts decor in the livingroom like a Feng Shui practitioner
Laughs at the absurdity of modern horror movies
Smells like bath wash and too much perfume
Smells of my childhood
Smells of my innocence
Paperbacks of Hugo and Austen in boxes in the basement
Paperbacks of The Symposium and a biography of Marx in the basement
Secretly likes to cook
Culinary explorer
Gastronomically open
Culinary door opener
Very little circle of friends
Austerity on the small mouth
Austerity in the small mouth
Conviction in her voice
Soft graphite in her voice
Has a lisp sometimes
The slight overbite(?)
Immigrant parent
Unnaturalized citizen
Reminds me of fall
Reminds me of everything
Reminds me of very little at once
Life-teacher, one of many
The way her hand moves on her tablet
The way her voice sounded during a lecture when I was a child
The way she used to hug
Closet full of shoes and clothes she rummages through when she's going out
Meticulous cleaner
The way her voice sounded when she tried to make sense of me
The way her voice sounds
List poetry. An experiment in profiling a close loved one.
JAIA Jul 2017
I wonder sometimes do even you care
My whole entire life have you been there?
Watching my every move and guiding me
Or are you judging me and laughing at my stupidity
You're probably in heaven thinking "Who is he?"
Yet you're flying free
And I'm grounded like I can't watch tv
I'm mentally sick and I hide it by smiling
But I ponder on what you'd say to me
If anything at all
Do you like movies? Do you play basketball?
Do you like cookies? Can you cook? Can you draw?
Just some questions I want answered
Are you a good dancer?
Are you like me someone who doesn't know their place?
And wouldn't see it even if it was right there in their face
Someone who feels alone in a crowded room
And can only ponder about their own doom
And how the essence of life is in fact pointless
Or are you an optimist? An opportunist with unlimited confidence
Who can work a room like a prostitute or a con artist
How do you feel about the institutes and the school system?
If you were given life what would have been your mission?
I bet you're just as lost as I am from every angle
But I still love you, fly high my miscarried guardian angel
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Clive Blake Jul 2017
Ann Cestor lives alone,
No relatives has she,
So it seems
That she is a root …
Without a tree!
Saint Audrey Jun 2017
Instructions unclear

Uncommon is not a word I often choose
Over zealous usage has left it maladjusted
I feel too frustrated and abused
Fear the fearful and opiate the transmute

In terms not so blatant

Put it on the back burner
Pack it up and go home
For a moment
Calculate the risk in murder
Before you know you'll be encroached

You're killing it

And yourself as well
Although I'm not convinced you see it
I know your will is right, heart straight as an arrow
But strung up on the wrong bow

And swiftly you'll be deadly
buried in  the things you used to know
People die and turn to snow
To bury you alive
And leave you feeling cold
It might hurt to take a knife

I know

Your back is riddled
As it goes
But hold on tight
I see the rope
Is burning bright
But flames drive back
The dreary nights
And warming up, going up in flames


Blowing up, reaching out in vain

Endless as the days
Ticking clocks all look the same
Hear them spelling out your name

Is this the way it stays?
Jim Davis Apr 2017
Could anyone, ever, ever, imagine
While struggling in moments of
Life, in this dark hardening world
Any greater tragedy to know of
In a life lived, yet always nearly lost
Than a soul's abandonment of love

Boyfriend, girlfriend, flirts, flings
Lovers, mistress, wife, husband, all
Can suffer (without seeing an end)
In the unwanted loss of a dear love
But such love, is always found love
Always a chance, of another to find

Really, such is such a little big thing
Laid alongside a meant destruction
With a loved one's hate of only kin
Care of same given blood, all gone
A sadly lost, gifted blessing, of love
Not unlike the gift of a God's love

Is it even possible, a mother loving
Not, a sweet daughter or brave son
Or a jealous sister's hatred of sister
Or a son's coming to rage, in
Twisted hate of a living father
Whose life's burden came crushing

Or like the very first two brothers
Cain, with Satan's new seed of hate
Sprouting a considered cause to kill
Or in Euripides' play, Medea's
Wrath filled hate of Jason leads to
Bloody felicide of her own spawn

Naturally, death comes for any one
Destiny's fate, followed a sin by two
But all loss of a blood born love
Of which there is only ever one
Arises from a most unnatural mind
Or possibly, unforgiven sin of one!  

©  2017 Jim Davis
Only a coincidence or vibes, hitting on Hello Poetry's theme "Unconventional Love" for the 4th day of National poetry month!  #npmlove

From Wikipedia
"On average, according to FBI statistics, 450 children are murdered by their parents each year in the United States .[4]"

"In the United States, homicide is in the top five causes of deaths of children, and in the top three causes of death in children aged between 1 and 4 years old.[7] A direct correlation has been identified between child abuse rates and child homicide rates. Research suggests children who are murdered by their parent(s) were physically abused  victims prior to death. This is often seen as an indicator of domestic violence.[8]"
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