"admonishing" poems
In 1963
Mahalia prodded
the good reverend...
“tell them
about the dream
Martin”
transfixed on
a yonder time
he recounted
prophecies of
a near future
from a mountaintop
he foretold a
history of a people
returned again to
gardens of paradise
thriving in friendly
democratic soils
overflowing with a
colorful biodiversity
governed and
nurtured with a
vibrant sunshine
of divine justice
welcoming all
weary sojourners...
from the
pinnacle of
a Birmingham
jail cell
Martin burst
the bars with
the clarion peel
of a golden trumpet
proclaiming the gospel
of liberation to
the wardens of
unholy gulags
“free yourselves”
the horn emblazoned
in streaking lightning
across the sky
cowed by
prophetic truths
of righteousness,
shamed by
lies the pride
of arrogance
bespeaks to
placate the
intransigence
of dominion,
we prayed the
the walls of racism,
bigotry, prejudice
would tumble down as
Martin lit the Battle
of Jericho
today our country’s
profit driven gulags
overflow with people
of color as justice
lingers on death row
begging for a plea bargain
of a life sentence in
solitary confinement...
from the
****** Sunday Bridge
in Selma, Martin
offered a prayer for
peace, rebuking
the dogs of war
admonishing
the tenders of
blood thirsty
machines to
beat the gears
of war into
pruning hooks
and plowshares
advocates of peace
hope to steer
the plow across
the battlefields of
acrimony to sow
rich seeds of
reconciliation, planting
new gardens where
the rich yields of peace
will be consumed
by all God's children
yet these gardens
remain unplanted,
untended and defiled
by the machinery
of war that churns
churns, churns...
Martin last
dream occurred
on a balcony
in Memphis
witnessing
to the divinity
of those considered
untouchable after
a hard days work
collecting a city’s
refuse
he insisted all labor
was worthy of dignity
and the economic
justice of a fair wage
Martin looked squarely
into the eye of the gun sights
of those who thought differently
he never blinked, he dreamed
Martin formed his last
testament to an angry nation
yearning for the reconciliation
of stability and peace,
unmoved that it’s violence,
exploitation and bigotry only
stoke bonfires of acrimony
and division, condemning
the reprobate principality
to the bleakness of a
smoldering discontent and
continued generations
of recurring nightmares…
Martin's dream continues
in awakened hearts
sojourning on
Music Selection:
Mahalia Jackson
Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho
MLK Day
2014
Oakland
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
EVERY LITTLE FISH CAN SWIM
1893
saw the beginning of me.
I was born
in a railway carriage
between somewhere
and somewhere else
in an Europe that
would change with the map
the lines redrawn
by War
some unpronouncable
European nowhere.
A barrel *****
was playing a tune that
would soon be forgotten
on the station platform
when Mamma and I
arrived
at our final destination
the train breathing like a dragon.
Its whistle
cutting through time.
Later I would remember
a little wooden acorn
at the end of a string on the blind
tapping against the window
as if it were admonishing
the dawn demanding
entrance to
the room when I was three and
pulling the blind up and then
pulling the blind down.
"Shadow people"
thrown against the wall
would not survive
a morning.
All night they chattered
amongst themselves
prowling the room
that was holding me.
Debating whether to
eat me now or later.
"Beings" merely made from
the edge of a wardrobe or
a chest of drawers
the brass **** at the end of
my bed where clothes
thrown over a chair
made them come alive
I believe
in them until
I was nearly seven.
Too scared to ***
in the porcelain ***
wetting the bed
to the anger of Mama.
And now 1963
will more than likely see
the end of me
as I am
and the mind
that created who I was
offers me these
fragments of insignificance
that amount
to being a life.
I laugh as Noël
Coward warbles
in his shellac'd world
forever singing
"But I can't do anything at all
but just love you!"
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
"Boy toy
or girl
toy! Don't
make me tell
you again, Pedro!"
I have committed a felony
within the land of the Golden Arches.
I have gone through
another patient's order
and forgotten which gender
to assign to the child
standing right next to them,
as if in need of another
fresh new coat in
traditional roleplay,
as if these little ones
were the cattle of tradition.
How foolish of me to assume
that the tiny calf in pigtails
would enjoy the strong-willed,
goal-setting, leadership-evoking
action figure instead of the sanitized,
goal-admonishing, vapidity-provoking
fashion doll.
I wouldn't want to lose
another valuable customer.
Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 9:43 PM UTC
I called a friend of mine,
you see I've always scratched her back
you know and she's scratched mine.
What makes me crazy is that
she's always one to take,
she's always on the make.
You gimmie and grab
and turn around and gouge
out my eyes,
you talk real ****
you don't answer any of my whys.
My thousands of whys.
Well so long now,
sorry but I got to go...
Yes so long, it's been a slice,
shaking loose of you is like
putting down a vice.
Golden earrings and pretty bobbles
couldn't clean up your act.
You've walked barefoot across the floor, broken fragments of glass,
everywhere, and you were there,
but, oh so was I.
I was there too
I've given you my very best,
yes I've given you my very best,
and what do I get?
I get treated worse than all of them,
worse than all the rest.
I wish I could remember
if it was a movie or if
I heard it in a dream.
It doesn't matter much now,
Because when
I see you coming
I just want to leave.
Just like Dylan said, "A whole lot of people dying tonight
from the disease of conceit."
I've tried taking you aside
and softly admonishing you,
that ended in a stalemate,
what good did it do..
You wore my Austrailian hat and battered it black and blue.
You took my painting and threw away the frame,
I lend you money
and you drink it away.
I don't talk about drawing a line,
I just do it and
if you're in you're right mind
you won't cross it
unless you really want
the **** to hit the fan.
This conflict, I must confess,
well it can make me cry.
every time you
turn around
you're telling me another lie.
I feel a lot of ambivalence .
I don't want to hear you any more.
Some times I think I want silence,
some times I think I want to even the score.
Man, I am on
cloud nine,
look what anger does,
as if I'm in a fight.
I just get to average,
but by no means normal,
the only normal I have found
is the cycle on a washing machine.
I'm not sinkin' in a hole
that was dug real deep by you,
thinking
this old world is all ****** up
and
you don't want to play the game,
You'd just end up leaving me,
so sad and feeling so full of shame.
Do you love me, let me count the ways,
it's not that I don't care,
it's not that I don't want to be there.
I just don't know any more...
what's that sound
telling me I have fix it,
that I have to
put it right.
Now you're looking
to put me down,
always wanting
to start a fight.
You're acting so abstract,
while with me it's so 'as a matter of fact'.
Knowing no one has even half the answers.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC
Sound of a pen clattering
Admonishing beauty of arts rendering
Lines of rhyme rhyming
Mixed with rhythm rhythming
Like a poem life flowing
Like a drama life pushing
Like a prose life rushing
And then comes representing
Unrepentant life projectoring
The literati's lyrical lyricalling
Recalling the gods of writing
With written words calling
Calling calling calling coming
And hence societal ills hiding
Bad leaders, leadership running
Disillusioned souls troubling
Marginalised masses crying
And crime rate like jet flying
Bombs like pure water exploding
Politicians still stealing and looting yet fearing
Fear! phobia! fear embracing
Minimum wage hurting Governors like bee stinging
Unemployment destroying like earthquaking
Half baked graduate graduating
Our education unseriously provoking
Undefined boundaries exposing
Immigrants immigrating
Police, Soldiers, customs, Road safety, etc all corrupting like they feeding...
Inec election in chaos resulting
Nigeria a name of peoples's confusing
NEPA, WATER, ROAD, HOSPITAL unrealistic absurding...
Corruption! corrupting!! corruptioning!!! Are we starting or finishing? Building or destroying?
The lyric of the literati busy deconstructing...
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
As a kid, I used to think I was lucky. My other friends' parents yelled at them left and right and expected perfection. My parents made deals and laughed and said it was okay if I got a B. My friends' parents forced them to take violin lessons, piano lessons, Chinese lessons, ACT lessons, SAT lessons, and expected nothing less than superior for all of them. My parents asked what my hobbies were, what I wanted to do and what I cherished. They wanted to cherish them too. My other friends' parents envied me, their faces grew longing when I described the silky cheesecake I was allowed to eat at breakfast. Their eyebrows lifted in wonder at the thought of being praised for giving an effort and failing.
As I grew older, my happiness turned into envy again. Even though their parents pushed them to the brink and mine barely controlled me, I started doing worse. First came the B-'s then it dropped to C's and possibly even lower. I didn't think it was a problem at first, then came the time when my parents realized they did something wrong. They couldn't maintain the specific balance between too much and too less. I turned out to be a hopeless kid; one who struggled in class, one who couldn't keep up. My other friends, the ones with tiger parents excelled. Some were precocious, some were average smart. I couldn't compare. Their parents stopped yelling, finally satisfied with their work.
But that was when mine started yelling. Anger management wouldn't be able to handle them. Their poisonous words fell off their mouths like acid rain in a forest. I was the one who bore all the blame. My teenage rebellious personality wouldn't let me sit and watch, I had to talk back. The 5 minute talks grew to 10 minute admonishing and to 20 minute arguments where both sides were screaming at the top of their lungs in order to get their point across. We kept a drawer full of cough drops whenever these high-pitched arguments stopped. Each side would nurse their pride along with their swollen throats.
So now I wonder by myself, is it better to be strict to young kids and relax with older kids or the other way around? Each path brings its own side of pain, but each with its own reward.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
When you make the choice to embrace the iron
And deny voice to impatient desire
When your heart seeks a dark relief
And you dig deep to find belief
When you bare your teeth
To earn relief
And the lactase weeps
Body burns with heat to pay the fee
You pay with hurt to settle misery
And walk the streets secretly
With an invisible wreath
Body sings a symphony
To the pain you own
Hymns of control
A punishment that you will own
Admonishing through flesh and bone
Turning will to steel, form to stone
Teaching brain to heel as hearts atone
Till everything you feel is yours alone
And your own life feels like something you own
Iron inspired, regret retired, live in the moment
Heart may be heavy but you know you can hold it
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
12 days in the wilderness
what solitude hath brought…
a paltry sum of windy words
silly abstractions with the scent of turds
wandering the cedar dotted mesas,
once a vast and dreamy sea
inspired nothing in the verbosity of me
now home from the night walks
the ghostly winds that had so much to say
yet if I heard them, the words are hiding
in some wavy web of cells, firing blanks
when I aim at the blissfully blank page
who am I
to defile this space,
with puerile pecking
when the white wisdom of the ages
eyeless, stares at me
admonishing me
that words can
beguile the shrewdest master
by convincing him
they do not exist
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
And...it's here. A future. Agile? I was not enough to be.
Black in it's entirety. A new beginning and a new me.
Clockwork. As though a plan hatched by some supreme being.
Dear dog, which came first? Was it the white or the black?
Either way, it effortlessly taints your profoundly glorious genes.
**** this! Atrocious. Drugs?!
Goodness me. How did we get to this?
Horrible, dehumanising, and it's here to stay.
"It suppresses". But really only in the mildest of ways.
Just to remind you of the control you once had.
Killed! And now ceded in it's entirety to a tad bit of a fad.
Let me just turn back the hands of time!
My fate I leave with you alone.
Nothing seems to relieve this pressure and irreparable pain.
Oh God! Could I be spared such a destiny?
Prayers.
Queuing from my heart to yours.
Respectfully admonishing your power and grace.
Simply, do I ask for that childlike sense of serenity.
To take me to a place of restoration and hope.
Unlock my mind. Repair my soul. For vaults of this kind are too strong.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC
The day begins before it should,
and every minute is squandered,
before I jump into the car,
spilling hot coffee in my haste.
Then the rushing wind blows past me,
running through my hair in the dark;
headlights keep up with the sharp turns,
and the thumping stereo lifts me.
Parking, on time, walking briskly
to ensure the grandest entrance
to give a formal impression.
My echoed greeting meets my ears.
Hello, goodbye, I take over,
holding my vigilant station
as I toast bagels with butter
and wait for them to call me up.
"Ashley!" comes the petulant cry
and I manage to answer her.
"Coming!" And I take a slow sip
before heading up creaky stairs.
They want me to pick out their clothes.
They want me to help them get dressed.
I say, "You can do that yourself,
I'm here to do hard things, like cook."
Teasing, admonishing, waiting
for children to do what I asked;
I take one more sip of coffee
and the cup is gone far too soon.
Soon, they are eating their breakfast,
and I'm prepping backpacks and coats.
Something spills, and I clean it up;
then she says she forgot her shoes.
I tell her sister to get them,
but she won't go up there alone.
So we three climb the creaky stairs,
and come back with their socks and shoes.
We run out the door, lock the garage,
and jump in my car for a ride.
"Seatbelts?" I ask before leaving,
and they both ask me for tic-tacs.
A minute away, and I park.
They jump out and both wave goodbye.
I smile and wait for the school bus.
I drive to my next job, next door.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC
Trace your thoughts slowly
Across the moon’s lit Primrose,
And ponder not on how she belongs to the
Twilight.
Linger not on the notions of Beauty’s
Contrast…
Of utter radiance amongst the Eventide—
Lest you crave her
Shadows.
The unworthy swoon on false intoxications of allure,
Betraying pheromones that lead only to
Ruin.
Breathe not in her presence and still your thoughts, which race ill-intended towards
Premature release of longings—
Unrequited.
Dark Goddess of the Abyss
Siren of Shadows
Seeker of none, yet yearned by
All.
Accursed Aphrodite
Preternatural Persephone
Devourer of Darkfall,
Merciless Maven of moon-drunk men
Who quake with trepidation
Under the pressure of your
Wrath.
Know that your fleeting fury fuels
Fiery passions.
Fulfills my need to know you
If only briefly.
Shall I caress legendary layered labyrinths
Of thou’s lucid lithe mind?
Soothe seared sacred chambers
Of thine frostbitten
Heart?
Beautiful forlorn creature you are
To only be seen for Carnality’s
Delight.
Know that I perceive you.
Past Ethereal Elegance
Beyond the bonds of
Crescent Shackles.
Embodiment of Evanescent Evenings
Impermanence intertwined in
Insufferable aching…
Understand that your
Acrimony is
Admired.
This altruism
All-encompassing.
Allow me to detect deformities
Deep within
Defenses Deterred—
Hollow conclaves concealing
Corrugated corrupted
Compliance.
Humor my heartfelt hubris…
Humble yourself before this
Haunted man.
Entreat, Embrace, Entrust
This harrowed human husk
With an ounce of your Obsidian
Opulence.
I proclaim to pronounce you as my
Pessimistic Paramour.
To never underestimate
Our most unholy
Union.
To know that you belong to the
Night Sky
And must be unbound…
Understand my ululating plea,
To adore your admonishing
Yet never resign to its
False
Adherence.
Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 3:43 AM UTC
My response for your care in my
reputation is
Thank you, but No Thank you.
Your way has seemed to calm the
rest of the people in the room to silence in
appall.
The criticism is too much.
My brain cannot think of anymore ways to change
on your behalf.
I understand my crazy qualities
are too intense for the age we hold according to you.
We are fourteen.
This is the age we both hold in our lives.
It is up to me to have fun while I can.
You are wasting precious time by growing up too
fast.
Seems that all you can tell me is what I did
wrong.
I see you are watching me
as if you have custody over me.
I am no child.
You are no more mature.
My heart breaks every time I see you.
I know our elders find it right but we know it is
wrong for us to be close.
I know this
by the blood flowing from my broken heart
as I walk the street from your house to mine.
There is a trail of blood that you will find
on your own since I am not permitted to say
I am hurt that you
admonished me.
You are no friend.
Control your jealousy.
I have not become the bad one
by abandoning you.
I find moving on a more effective way to admonish.
Be gone, be aware,
be no friend of mine.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
The incessant turning of cogs in
an instrument ran by heart
Shambles.
Stoic, admonishing words
frolicking about as frail, free-floating petals.
Beneath it all the clamorous tug gibing with the
Very voices you kissed me with.
Cold, but
unwinding the taut flesh.
I stayed
though.
By your darkest demons, caressing with
Silk comfort.
Imbuing them with a dancing light lull:
your Reign of Melody.
To projectile your serenading strums,
To stretch out your fingers jangling,
on all the metal of the strings;
Gnashing the ivory saws of your teeth
you severed my bones.
I’ve become your music to trifle
I’ve become your naive, small bell boy.
“We’re not two, but one” you’d say. When
You knew all along, this song steered and dwindled
into paleness.
Sour hush.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
I dreamed
of your funeral
someone told me
to remove my hat,
in such scared space
with all those amputated flowers,
***** pipe moans, and
necromancing neckties
you spoke; you assured me
I did not have to expose
my naked head, or any other secrets
for you knew them all, as did those
among whom you now "walked"
others yet stared at me
with chastising eyes
admonishing me to uncover my head
for I was still among them they said…
they could not hear you or feel your breath
making the hairs stand on the back of my neck,
if they could, they would have let me be
they would have known
you did not demand truth
it was all around you, and even stripped of my hat
and forced to endure the sun's glaring revelations
we woeful walkers would yet be in darkness,
in this waking dream, imagining light
from a place that had none
I dreamed of your funeral…
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
Friends,
Most of them are like drums
Emptier their inside,
The more they sound.
Some like bells
chime incessantly
To gleam themselves
but cuts our life span.
Some like Judas
betrays for a nickel and insults
Some like Brutus
Misunderstand easily
And raise armies against us
on the streets.
Still others like garden lizards
feign forgetfulness
Or like chameleons
change colours
Some time slink away
from problems like a turtle.
Or bribe their way
with crocodile tears .
Yet there are a few other
Who float through our dreams
Admonishing against evil designs
Living through fond memories,
Even after their death.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
Thou art my creator
Not to mention, my first teacher
From you, have I learned so much
That it has made me rich
Not in terms of wealth
But in terms of character
Always, have you kept me in good health
And assuaged my doubts and fears
To the greatest extent possible
Thanks to you, do I really believe nothing is impossible!
Thou art my creator
There is so much you have to bear
In order to keep me happy
While I often get snappy
Certainly, have I not been the best son
However, rarely have you been wrong
Always, have you been there for me
Constantly coaxing and cajoling
Scolding and admonishing
And finally
Encouraging and praising!!
Thou art my creator
To me, are you extremely dear
The perfect example of unconditional love
However, at the same time
Rarely have you treated me with kid gloves
Many a time, have you taken the blame
For mistakes I have made
Nevertheless, you are the main reason
For me having a strong sense of right and wrong
You are my moral compass
And whenever there is something amiss
You point me in the right direction
Equally important, are your words of caution!!
Thou art my creator
Not just a mother
But also a friend for life
And my strongest companion in times of strife
With me, have you sometimes been patient to the extreme
You are the beam
Of light that surrounds me from all sides
And ensures I never fade
Often, have you been a mixture of strict and lenient
Sometimes, downright blunt
But you can also be exceedingly sweet
All in all, as a parent
Quite hard are you, to beat!!
Thou art my creator
And quite a colourful character
You are the most precious person
In my entire life
From you, have I learned the most important lessons
Thanks to you, have I been able to ride the rough
And ultimately emerge successful
Finally, I love you above one and all
May God bless you
With loads of love, happiness and peace!!
May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 12:24 AM UTC
We have been given a
WORLD
Where
Thinking.
Is.
Just.
Not.
Required.
Who says Zombies
Cannot Exist?
Are not walking
Among us.
Void Emotion.
Void Human
Sincerity.
This
'Functioning Society'
We have greedily gobbled
From a Silver,
Gold plated platter.
Does not support
Connection.
Promotes Private.
Singular Successes.
One ocean of
Opportunity.
How?
Tell a bird to swim.
Hold it's breath.
To halt it's lovely
Song?
It will
Perish.
Forced to
Thrive,
Live,
Exist,
Be Content
In conditions it was not
Designed
to Flourish.
You.
Have a Particular,
Admonishing
Spirit.
Designed for a Certain
Purpose.
The Human
Frailty,
Deemed
Consciousness,
Possessing Thought.
Curses
and
Prizes.
The ability to choose a
Niche.
Complicatedly,
Distraught and
Scared.
We all begin to carve.
Choose Air,
Fire,
Water.
As our ideal conditions.
In which lies, Your
Destiny.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
awesome apothecary addressed as Agamemnon
alleviates anxiety, and alimentary aggravation
anodyne appeasement arrests ailment
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness
assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault air afoul
affable affinity affects adumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,
although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,
and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored
autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals
acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance
addict adrift afloat anchors away
assails along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration
against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite
acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable
any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted
alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as aerosmith ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant
acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
after dinner on the porch
was the best time, he and grandpa watching,
waiting for the storms--a thunderclap
the sweetest note to both of them
sheets of rain rolled across
the big pasture, downdrafts made the boy shiver,
even cradled in the old man's arms
neither would speak, grandpa's good arm
would point, or wave, these movements a code
between generations, theirs at least
finally a twister appeared in the west
growing plumper as it spun across the fields,
spitting gray dirt from its base, a zigzagging
dancer without a care in the world
grandma and Aunt Helen
fled to the cellar, imploring the pair
to follow
though they didn't, for all their hours
gazing at the heaving heavens would have been
profligate had they hid in the ground,
missing creation's greatest crescendo
the angry funnel ate a section of fence
wide as a football field, and felled a tree
not a quarter mile from the house--its roots
too shallow, grandpa thought
when the tempest passed, the sun made
an appearance, slipping between the cloud bank
that birthed the tornado, and the silent soil
in the devil's wake
in its final moments,
it glared at the interlopers on the porch,
perchance admonishing them the promise
of its golden rays was no sacred contract
but a fickle gift
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
Beet crumbles clinging to the hand in mine brush off familiarly between our fingers.
A sight for sore eyes evokes memories of a time where calloused hands created palettes, wroughting elements together over the canvas of faultless white platters. The pang through my soul twinges inward at the pruneyness of my nitrile stifled hands, echoing stymed passion. I envy how you still get to curate palates wholesomely from the roots.
My watch chimes over reminiscent conversation admonishing us of our obligations.
I like to think that in another stage of another life our passions will cross again. Just as I hope it will in this one.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
I know that we are distant now,
and though we may no longer exchange words,
I am content with that
because I realised
early on in our relationship
that you were never mine to lose.
They admonished me, but I wanted
to experience myself, and perhaps
prove them wrong of their assumptions.
However, I instead proved myself to be at fault,
by chasing the indecorous,
and resulting in my own gaffe.
An atrocious blunder not worth the time
that was dedicated from the outside
to somehow benefit her strife
Instead she came to realise
that no one was ever hers to lose
for she never had anyone to gain.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
*i'm going to tell it like it is
you're a despicable little imp
telling me to chill and mellow
when i should bloom and fly
but i now know better than cry
and i won't wilt because you're sly
it's time for me to branch out without you*
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 5:37 AM UTC
The careless bullet
of an unidentified coward,
shot at unknown cars
Struck the tire of a truck
driving 65 MPH
ending the life
of the man who
was my father.
30 years ago
today....
For 30 years
I've worked through
confusion,
ANGER,
pain.
Slowly -the words of my father
crept back into
my life..
admonishing
teaching
guiding.
life lessons I now applaud:
never let pride
mask the love you have
for others.
People are people-
not bad
not good
they are just trying to survive
with the cards they were dealt-
so don't judge.
Offer kindness-
not hatred...
Forcing a relationship
that doesn't fit
is equivalent to
barking up a dead dog's ***
To have a friend
you must be a friend.
There is no shame
in asking for
help.
Don't mock the homeless,
the lost addicts
or women of the night...
Always remember
never forget -
There,
but for the grace of god
go I.
Say now what you need to say
so you never regret
not having said enough -
Thanks Daddy,
I love you!
I will miss you
Always
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
Bigger in my memory
smaller in my inclination
Regret a distant calling card
admonishing my name
Vacant in my recollection
bedded in my hopefulness
Joy a future invitation
—Heaven to proclaim
(Christmas Wishing: First Book Of Prayers- December, 2022)
Dec 25, 2022
Dec 25, 2022 at 11:19 AM UTC
And therefore,
dreams never come true.
Never the slightest chance
we would laugh together.
Admonishing, threats, and loss.
It didn't have to be
while the clock was ticking.
Nothing meaningful outside
these rude clans.
Only would we cut our teeth as we spoke.
Never knew
bigots
would be able to rule.
And therefore this opportunity was nothing of what
I dreamed of.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC