All that I need, all I've wanted for years, and even during the lost times, you were pressed under my skin like pure, warm aching. Had to go through it, we say now, had to lose each other entirely then to be heavenly entangled now.
Such great heights only after sunken deep lows.
Let me tell you, angel, I am certain you were made for me, and goodness, believe me, I could never leave.
We stood the test of time.
We endured the distance.
We have conquered demons.
You and I fought a ****** war, and hell if we didn't win it.

drowned the Earth suddenly.

  underneath honest light,
                                  all
   submerged. this cataract of feeling —
waters pursue beginnings. cradling them
to unknown ends, washed by the shore.
        gluttonously the night swallowed
all — parliament of birds warble no longer.
             midnight, the   Moon
claws the supple skin of organized stone
  displaced
               where all the edges bloom
forth torrid froth of dappled light which kills no less than a brief life of matchflame. tenuous spar of wind on
the unserious twilight; bulge of death
in the stream — a body haul, rafting
  in compost; stench of all topple like
resins held loose in vats. rat **** becomes
           as inviting as moulding bread;
tantric music for no instrument, hoarse
cries unbeheld —

            until the flesh no longer flounders
pressed against sleep-shaped youngness
hewn lissome in the hours of no succor,

       modeling silence in the thrill of
this enthusiastic space,
           hands scouring muddied
  obscure, atremble,
      shadowless hours fill stomachs with
the plump word of rescue yet none
  of these fingers unwished the
ingenuity of dull gods — this twilight
  nor twinight could ever grive
in forethought, striking bells to signal birds
         to arrive again so we could feast
in  silver  fish, with bare hands scaled to callouses,
    
      looking at it twice-over, this battered yolk
of whiteness, with deeds of the viridian
   now atrill in new fragile woodworks

       lurching and
         ameliorating as we all
    stutter and sing
       haunts dabbing open
  lips of small wounds that
   wish to shut quietly,   almost
every threat of gray     or pummel of
   wind startles the flyblown ornate,
  
   hurrying us back to cornerless homes
where all photographs washed away,
    very few hang
               swayed by verdure
  of the gradual throne of sea
        curving perpetually the several stars
we have ignored for a while,
     where everything quite begins
    again to enthrall with a melodic
  leitmotif of the most tender of
       instances loose
            in mouths
                 and in endless recall
                  
                                               breathless—

I am an accumulation of stories,
An amalgamation of myself and others,
Shared experiences lessening cultural differences,
Secrets and fears;
My own and those I hold near.
Joy and Sorrow;
What I say today may not hold true Tomorrow,
I am not constant
I am ever-changing,
Adjusting, evolving, ameliorating,
Tomorrow, I am the people I met Today
And part of the person I left behind Yesterday
What I am is Who I am,
A correlated concept, every day an elevated stand.

The immersion of
oneself in another
beleaguers
mind body and
soul; ameliorating
one's aplomb...engulfed

Guilt & Shame, Exhaustion, Doubts & Failure

I’m capable of grief, regret and feeling sad.
But is that guilt? And is guilt bad?
Knowledge that the one responsible is you,
However caused:
From innocence or ignorance,
Naiveté, unworldliness,
The mess created to put other(s) in a stew.
Perhaps it is.

In the stillness of decision,
From a willingness and will,
Rejecting guilt, dismissing shame,
Taking culpability in name of karma,
(though I’d never harm a
                                     fly on purpose),
If I’ve done a something to a someone,
I will have to pay back someone sometime,
Try to form and glue a future, integrated, sutured me,
New belonging and identity;
Acquiring a philosophy to lean on:
A new frame, new name, rules of the game
Ameliorating guilt and shame.

They write about this all the time
Have done it since the start of
Any kind of written art -
In prose, in picture and in rhyme
In life, in death, with every breath,
Mistakes corrected to reach truth
Uncovered and un-smothered,
Reaching out that truth to other.

Through the spittle,
Perhaps victual
Of the title
I reach out to you.

Guilt & Shame, Exhaustion, Doubts & Failure 5.7.2017
Circling Round Egos; Nature Of & In Reality; Definitely Didactic;
Arlene Corwin

Wakanda4Ever
For being a realization of a place, we’ve only ever seen in our dreams
For depicting the diaspora
Pan-Africa, futurism for the first time on the big screen
Wakanda4Ever
For ameliorating images of the continent revealing its beauty without reservation, or subjugation
For pulling from African nations imbuing African culture without ominous purpose or evasion
Wakanda4Ever
For providing representation that politics and cinema often lack
Revealing that in 2018, a man can be king, world leader, and protector
At the same time 100% black
Wakanda4Ever

The last time there was time there was none.
Pushed and pulled I am the ameliorating clay
I am the Sun, I am the Stars, I am Solar System Glue.
It's I for all and none for me.

He plays himself

With a mask like soaked clay

And faux tears on-command,

All you can do to cope with the hindsight

Is to say you were brave for sticking with it

When you weren't brave enough for the alternative,

Voice like a whisky-croak and words that

Ring of sweet nothings but really mean nothing at all.

Blood on the carpet. Never coming off

And never failing to remind you of what you did and didn't

do wrong.

You figured you'd make boredom into something

Less important but the meaning of any philosophy

Is dependant on the day and the weight of the past it carries--

**** it

Bassline stranded on the boderline, that is to say

Stuck and unfixable. That's part of growing, right?

Dealing with it and moving on, forming a character

From a tortuous pantomine; doing the impossible in

Ameliorating light strictly with the tools given to you

by the dark room you were raised in. Rise or sink.

It was out of your hands, your actions moving forward

Is all that has to matter now.

Just hold on until tomorrow.

Ethereal_ my mind has gone far;
Which I wish to distantly observe and inform,
Very far beyond the precincts of this material world.

Politics, time, gender violence or what?
My head is scattered and I don't know what to write.
But the effigy of a damsel silhouettes adamantly upon my imagination;
The bearer of this shape,
Permanent upon my clairvoyance consciousness
Has a gentle soul laden with solace_
Radiating towards my scattered head,
Ameliorating the spontaneity there in;
To stray no more, and beckoning my dissipated psyche back home.

Of a damsel, the silhouette pleasantly speak of LOVE
And I cannot but write love;
So as to tell you there's solace in love.

There is power
in an individual voice,
echoing in the
darkness about the
oppressed and of
those in chains.
The power of
the individual voice
can break the
icebox even of
the hardened heart
to the call
of the forgotten
and lonely ones
caged in the dungeon.
It only takes
one voice to
create change
by lending your
voice one to
the other.
Be moved and
be aspired to
be inspired and
take action now.
The brave and
passionate steps will
revert anything not
worthy of ameliorating
and glorifying mankind.
It is necessary
to bring man out
of the dark
in which he
unwittingly
find himself and
is in bonds.
However small your
steps are,
it definitely can
cause ripples to
defeat and bring
unexpected grandeur
to free the oppressed.
Your voice counts
as each one
reaches one another
in a chain reaction
to bring justice.
A call for
change is needful
and urgently needed.
Wake up now
to the life
around you.
Take an intentional
walk and experience
your community in
a whole new way.
Your voice counts.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

the sea called to both of you.
its loving front and wisdom
of that deep.
the storms that came,
might come again.

when it gave you its nature,
it gave you its struggling current.
darkening frequencies
of the lonely whale
chiding the tune
of his fellow
drowning sailors.

yet, there is peace
of the swell at the bottom
of the ocean.

for now and for there,
calming shores
in seashelled ears
tickle teardrops
out of waves
of newly brightened
coralling skin
soothing on ameliorating
anemones.

what we came from,
chills skin,
forces survival minds,
but down here,
there is no where to look
but up.
at the brilliance of
the sunlight shimmering and
dancing through the water.

His buzzfeeding spirit jump started
and kindled eternally his uplifting karma,
thus I present genuine psalm
remembrance of things past hallelujah!

Lemme automatically shift figurative gears
and apprise thee dear reader,
when a series of irreversible unfortunate events
accelerated our dependence on Karen Winkle
(another resident here at Highland Manor),
who drove yours truly and the missus
on various and sundry errands
(circa ~ early 2020 BC - before coronavirus)
and in fact lent us keys to her car.

Higher power our prayer
for vehicle unwittingly addressed
courtesy deliverance kindred lady luck,
we (the missus and me) blessed,
whereby each our collective
expanded ***** nearly burst forth

(think analogous stuffed
to hilt treasure chest)
managing without access
transporting ourselves
to and fro, hither and yon
at the merciful kindness
afforded us by above named gal
to lack automobile we did detest
metaphorically a deterrent
on par with climbing Mount Everest.

Wheel of fortune finds and concedes
good n plenty humor to cultivate
yours truly fielding mixed metaphor barley
without any sense and sensibility freight
not, neither pride nor prejudice to illustrate
merely lame jesting nsync with late
catcher in the wry methodology to obfuscate
dear reader, how ye will rate
poetic endeavor that doth undulate
without meaningful rhyme or reason.

Good instant karma iz reason
carefree mood I do avail
at expense of anonymous readers who bewail
lack of any cogent tangent scrunching brow
at each general detail

regarding my general disposition
ordinarily electric kool aid test without fail
permeates thru skin, sinew, muscle and bone
today unusually hearty and hale
lemme cut to the chase,
and explain why I feel spry

as vaguely iterated above,
our worse fate than being in jail
or being stranded at sea minus a lugsail
if surmised we acquired a vehicle
(2009 Hyundai Sonata - gold color)
ye figuratively hit nail

on head, thus ameliorating transportation woe,
which plight did prevail
(as iterated above)
since latter days of January 2020
finding the missus to rant and rail
constantly bemoaning accursed unfair travail.

Bless gratitude of Boyce Brandon Harris
mine then nonagenarian papa
at that time experienced declining health
and since passed away
seventeen plus months ago;
he formerly lived at Normandy Farms,
upscale retirement community
within Blue Bell, Pennsylvania.

After his driving days came to screeching halt,
though beset with setbacks
the endeavor to relinquish keys
(regarding aforementioned automobile)
into the hands of yours truly
courtesy coronavirus beast
presented quite thee challenge.

Initially karma dad owned
necessitated getting towed to garage
named G & S Tire & Auto
1798 Dekalb Pike, Blue Bell, PA 19422
father heavily praised above,
the mechanics (purportedly
both brothers - ordinary mothered Joes)
patiently bided their time
awaited insurance information
plus registration -
legal needed documentation
end result found endeavor
pulled off without a hitch.

Otherwise titled:
Mien wonderful wedded divine wife....,

whose piercing deliverance,
a balm ameliorating tattooed strife
despite being dirt poor,
(especially after ***** deeds done...
generating thunderstruck ac/dc current
hmm... maybe due comeuppance
being scammed to the hilt)
suspicion toward comportment of people rife
with deliberate intent to jackknife
cumulative net worth,
and now yours truly

evinces trust nobody motto
(dialogue we hear coming
from the pursed lips
of X files Special Agent Mulder)
******* me every step of the way
I cherish her pricelessness, how nice,
a beacon complementing/
supplementing homelife,
who will forever be with me
even during our (mine
atheistic couched) afterlife.

She, the mother
of our deux darling daughters, I adore
though ofttimes, she never knows...
expressing love tis quite an arduous chore
concerning me upon this
(we quietly celebrate
bledded wiss encompassing
trials and tribulations we didst explore
courtesy (for instance) my parents
time sharing vacation getaways galore
poem honoring pledged troth
missus doth implore
concerning wedding anniversary
two days hence, whoa...

our shared journey bobbing
at times eventfully, fitfully,
gingerly along knorr
never without unbridled adventure,
how quickly time doth pass, cuz we wed
yes already number xxvii, i.e. twenty seven)
orbitz around the sun, we reminisce...
revisiting how each the rock
of gibraltar for the other more
so much emotional turbulence
witnessed by our progeny,
a tragic indelibly recorded overture

nearly rent asunder by mighty quinotaur,
I accept culpability (yours truly)
strayed against sacred covenant
went wayward intrepid misdeeds
repented of secular married man
known in Biblical realm
carnal sin for sure
without shadow of doubt
triggered emotional uproar
and nearly led to marital war
we now joke about mine
philandering days of yore.

Infidelity nearly perilously upended marriage,
said vaguely worded insensate blunder
wrought catastrophic upheaval
reigned analogous how millenniums ago
Vandals, Huns, Goths,
et cetera did plunder
and ransack the
outer limits of Roman empire
our pledged troth shattered,
whereby the missus outclassed Zeus,
she emitted deafening thunder,
yet annulment nor divorce,
she would not grant
sigh of great relief
and mystery I wonder...

To this upcoming July twenty fifth
when all troubles
of this beatle browed,
foo fighter, nirvana seeking...
seemed so far away
how hands of father time
speedily lept away
an (extra) ordinary day
to be alive and appreciate sticktoitiveness
toward her, whose troth I pledged

courtesy thee (sacrilegious infidel)
mine discreet liaisons spouse forgave
NOT telling me hike along highway
and/or boulevard
of broken dreams, motorway
avoided, cuz she thee missus
WANTED me to stay
in role of legally wedded husband
(and father to deux special grown lasses)
when they (progeny)...
were just newborn babes yesterday.