"abashing" poems
The thought
of you
interlocked
with him
as
we used to be
drives
me
to pure
insanity.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
If you should call yourself a student,
a truth-seeker or breadwinner,
live this life to learn--be prudent,
and absorb the evils of the litter.
Falter you mustn't
for this path you've chosen,
among others christen'd,
to be whipped and woven.
For when even life is beat, it is
sweetened with enough strife
as to never yawn or sleep, that is
but to see a cause to strike.
On the road like the beats;
Do light the fire of Yeats:
For what's a student got to eat
but a diet of dry pasta and black beans?
For who's a student got to be
but a-filling the mold and breaking the seams?
For how much a student's got to have
but a-cashing the last eight dollars in coin?
For what's a student go to know
but abashing knowledge for generations to join?
For where's a student got to go
but when a-coming home given the snare?
For what's a student got for hope
but a waterboarding victim gasping for air?
For how's a student got to live
but in living separate selves into one?
For how's a student got to cope
but to drown the fear with instant 'fun'?
For how's a student got to set an example
but being stigmatized for education?
For what's a student got to show
but to hide existential distention?
For what's a student going to do then
but to turn a-back from all with clout?
For who's a student now?
but, now, I considered dropping out.
And for what's a student got to Bear
but to no fault overhear:
"The Universities are a day care"?
So, hear this, I bring thee to light
It would mean our honest delight
For all to know our dire plight
But as we sing our "Fight, fight, fight!"
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
and I want to write about love
but today I don’t have enough
my pockets are empty
my mind is full
but only with silent sufferings and yearnings
all my abashing confessions
not so silently rage consumes me
fueled by fear sleeping deep inside me
and I want to write about love
but today I don’t have enough
matter isn’t singing
visions mere hallucinations
lacking the soul of the world
once again invisible to me
but I promise you
that something still lingers in the light that touches your fingers
and I’m sorry if today
my eyes don’t light up honoring the day
just tell me about the light that holds dust
dripping it softly to the carpet
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC