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vern Jun 2019
dearly beloved
I have gathered my pen and paper
to send you love from another world
I've stashed this note in a bottle
and threw it into the air
so I shall not know whether you got my love
whether you even care
I apologize for I left your world without a word
I didn't belong there but I found I belong here
I belong somewhere
and it is not there, it is here
and it is not with you, it is with me
I am regifting the lies that were gifted by you
you are no longer a concept that plagues my mind
do you think about me my beloved
I don't think about you
the thought saddens me so I refuse
I'd rather stay happy and live in ignorance
that you ever existed
these empty feelings on paper will finally disappear
to a place I do not know
well, once knew but have long forgotten
this is my first note and my final note
I'm sending you love from another world
and I will never send it to you again
for this world is my own, and I don't want to share
It's been awhile. This isn't my best work, but it's something.
vern May 2019
on my calender, I have marked
the perfect day to drown.
for the day I will drown will be the most tranquil of them all
the ocean will be perfectly still, not a wave in sight.
the moon high above will not pull the tide.
the creatures in the sea will travel away.
for the day I will drown will be the quietest of them all
the world around me will watch in silence
as I walk towards the center of the ocean
and lie down to drown
the only ripples will be from my steps
for I have chosen to drown
a choice of my own, not the ocean's
my body will sink as if I'm drifting asleep
my bed of water will slowly lower down
to the bottom of the ocean
for it is the perfect day to drown
I try to write with a meaning behind it, so when AP Lit classes read my random poems they can overanalyze them. This isn't about death, it's not about dying, even though that's one of the hashtags. It's just about finding peace of mind and calming down. It's about sinking away from problems. It's about sleeping and being calm. I'm just very drawn to the ocean and I love poems about water and the ocean.
vern May 2019
we are tied to our fates with a thin red string
they are strung to our love, destiny, and death.
the young man who lost his lover
is fated to fall for another.
the new mother who holds her child
is fated for a beautiful destiny she cannot imagine.
the person sitting alone on the bench
is fated to lose his life to someone.
none of these people can see where their strings go
they live as if there are no red strings tied to their fingers
and attached to the sky.
only the watcher of our fate can see these red strings.
she grieves for the some of the strings
the saddest lives are the smallest
smiles for other strings
she sees those who will have full lives
and she sighs
the watcher cannot see her own strings
unlike the others, she is not ignorant of fate.
she is aware of fate, embraces fate,
but she does not know her own fate
was she destined for eminence, luster
was she destined for a lover, a heart
was she destined for death, sooner rather than later
she will never know
the burden of the knowledge of the red strings
weighs her down
she does not have a fate, a love, a destiny, a death.
For she is the watcher of the red strings of fate
and only the watcher of the red strings of fate.
I've loved the concept that there is some invisible red string that ties you to your soulmate. However, I wanted to reimagine it as something that ties you to any fate you have. Sometimes I feel like I am the watcher of the red strings. It's just a sense of hopelessness and emptiness that maybe I won't amount to anything or will be enough for anyone. That's a lot of emotion, but I hope you still enjoy this poem.
  May 2019 vern
Maya Angelou
Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.

They move into condos
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.
Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right
they ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plant
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.

Take the church money out
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.

Folks write about me.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.

My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.
  Apr 2019 vern
Juneau
on this boat I am safe as long as I can see shore
but that is not what I have built this for
I sailed out for adventure and a chance to explore
this place is too mundane I want something more
to navigate by the stars like in the times of yore
and find rubies and gold treasures galore
but first I must get there so I reach for my oar
and row into the unknown until I am sore
I look out to the east and the clouds I just abhor
the waves grow higher and the wind starts to roar
the clouds begin to light up and the rain starts to pour
a storm such as this one I have never seen before
and all this premonition I can no longer ignore
but I am not turning back I'll risk the ocean floor
August 30, 2014
Thirty-one
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