"amendments" poems
Evil & crime so predictable & stale.
Stupid how arrested suspects get bail.
Convicted when their victims tell.
Prison is where some stay & are jailed.
They have to communicate by mail.
Sometimes their focus goes in another direction.
Where probation happens after correction.
Child & spousal abuse, drug use, & rehab that is no use.
History repeats
Wives & children still get beat.
Their isn't always a Superman or Batman to be your hero.
With a sword or crossbow.
Details of armed robbery , drug dealing & smuggling.
Stabbings & muggings.
On the inside homosexual love with cuddling.
Human trafficking & prostitution.
Violating amendments & constitutions.
They are how they are from how they were raised.
If their victims could speak from the grave
Or had they been saved.
They could explain & describe how their rapists & killers behaved.
Male & females do their time.
Years in custody for their crimes.
Seriousness of their offenses vary.
Some educate, get jobs, or marry.
Behind bars is where violence belongs.
To be punished for all that they did wrong.
Some from death row are now dead.
Similar to the wildlife in a zoo behind bars they get fed.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
You work to pay your way threw life, while you pray to last another day. As time goes by you realize the strength it takes to play this game.
So I live the life I want outgoing and against amendments, earth to me is jail so i work to serve my sentence. Forced to spend eternity behind walls that don't exist. These walls were built tall and created by mental bricks.
The shackles of self doubt keep us chained down to the surface. While we deal with the stress, pain, and emotional damage, from a journey of life's questions and the absence of answers.
It's even harder to think clear when all these distractions surround you, while brick walls made of thoughts create obstacles around you.
We create these walls and build them tall as a form of self protection, but when your guard is always up doubt will leave yourself defenseless.
With each conflict that we deal with our mental sentence extends. So bend the bars and break down the walls, from out the prison that's within.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
management in Washington
has only gotten worse
Obama's administration
is it's curse
before he took up lodgings
in the oval office room
America wasn't as replete
with endless gloom
he's most certainly
made a mess of everything
the health of the economy
is flagging
at will be disrespects
the amendments of the constitution
and the people are becoming
tired of his flagrant execution
with a Republican
at the helm of the ship
America will have
a more astute stewardship
the White House must be
purged of the Obama regime
so the great nation of America
will again positively gleam
with mid term elections
coming at the end of the year
the majority Democrats
should be given the spear
Obama and his mob have achieved
little for the American populous
the time has arrived for them
to board the outbound bus
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
He touched our hands
But unconcernedly this famous man
And would not look us in the eye
For fear of contact or what might be worse, connection
And we could hardly blame him, for after all
He had each day been singled out for close inspection
By ones like us, in awe of his celebrity
Circled in the shade of his perfection
Hoping for the star-dust sprinkle of acuity
Or sparkling eyes, admission to his inner cult and clan
He wore blue jeans
And scuffed sneakers as a badge of proof
Of his coolness and unconcern
While we his audience with concealed attention
Enviously eyed his hairy confidence, unconsciously
Imitating in each phrase that low convention
Made small adjustments to our store-bought suits and ties
And nodded several times in bright pretension
Made small amendments to our smiles and lies
Flicked photo-phones in pursuit of custom and routine
He gave a speech
A flippant interview, this famous creature
A well tossed phrase, a rounded cliche
Poured forth like brandy in a glass, convivial
Or apple cider-ed vinegar in pewter mugs
A sardonically French-accented phrase habitual
Well humored, heavy lidded with testosterone
At interlocutor women with the pens and pads
Delivered in a low and purring monotone
For all the world as lovers, each to each
He stretched a smile
A modulated shift of teeth and beard
"Genius? Not I" with deprecation
"My shallow intellect, so poor and so ephemeral"
Delivered in a tone that mocked inclusion
While we assumed an elegance, unintentional
A nonchalance that shields the wide charades
Unmoving in our breathless, but conventional
Genuflection to the the notion that pervades
Our addictive appetite now sated. For a while.
He kissed their cheeks
And stroked their arms, with sensuous ambivalence
But absently, as if he cared so little
In his farewell. 'A bientot' he said and 'Au revoir'
And slipped away amongst the moving Milan crowds
Creative and creator, irredeemably a star
With, in his wake the smiling scriveners staring
At his retreating back in Stark excitement
In the middle of the circling and squaring, at
The alpha-wolfic effigy. The Shepherd and his sheep.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
Lost in the club on the way to the bathroom
American dreamless, existed in a vacuum
Every day, another way for us to consume
Raids on the senses, a general consensus
of the senseless, reprehensible amendments
The armaments by the tenements, diffused
Confused, never used, lonely in the fugue
And you
You who assume, presume, eschew the ruin
of the brewing times, rising tides, the lies
and of ties that bind - us to the times
and to meaningless rhymes
By illuminated rooms when the eye blinks
Think, blink, the pink rink - closed
By the hours that be, powers that see
Subversive naturalism
in a state of debate, compensate the reckless
Feckless and dick-less, compost of the senses
The sexes have wrecked us, ****** of the spectrum
By your septum reset them, mind wiped
Iconic lights gone
The new light's on
Right on
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
I want to come up with amendments,
But my brains cannot function
Because I have spent the last 8 hours
Trying to memorize the 2 “I’s” of Lebanese history
Irony and Ignorance.
I want to fix the world
But I was never the handy man;
I once broke my mother’s phone
Trying to wipe the screen;
And frankly,
I don’t really know what’s wrong with it.
I want to patch my mother’s heart.
The bullet in her son’s temple
Burnt a hole in her arteries,
So every time she inhales
She could taste the lead
Between her husband’s eyes;
Because before the stars collapsed
They were just scanning the shelves for skimmed milk;
His daughter suffered from diabetes,
And before the sun exploded
At the bend of a thumb
She was hanging from his arms,
Jane trying to swing her way
But in this movie
She never meets Tarzan.
His daughter was only 3.
A car bomb
Can conflagrate
From 9,000 up to 27,000 feet per second
Both are multiples of 3.
A wired van
Can carry up to 12,000 pounds
Of explosives
Also a multiple of 3.
On her 3rd birthday
She blew 3 candles,
And 3 candles were lit-
Every night,
In between the white roses-
Over her grave.
I want to breathe
Burning tires,
I want to bask
In blood,
I want to think
In exchange rates,
I want to feel numb;
If this is the only way…
Is this the only way
To survive?
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
A place newly freed from the grips of its mother
Struggles with the rules that keep the mezzanine from
Crashing down.
1) The official and ever-wanted right to speak one's mind
In a way only they can do. Religion, politics,
Every matter ever opinionated.
2) If a man entered your home and threatened
Every loved one that lived there, would you want to be helpless?
Defenseless? Or would you **** or maim to protect
Your family? A gun, a knife, and the right to do so?
3) Many people would be honored to house a soldier.
Simple as that, but what if they didnt?
Money is tight, there is no room? And they are sick of giving up
Their own beds and food for a soldier fighting for
Something they do not agree with?
Preventative measures are needed.
4) Nothing to hide, but constantly searched.
Is privacy really that unimportant?
No; it is important.
5) A crime, a trial; it should be obvious.
The same crime twice? Impossible.
Self incrimination? Non existent.
6) The right to know what you've been accused of,
To have a quick trial with an attorney and witnesses at your defense.
Imagine having no clue, and suddenly having a gun to your head?
7) A crime done by you or another,
And a jury to help the decision, but not step in the
Judge's place. Simple discussions of which laws applied and not
No longer took place.
Sed lex, dura lex.
8) The banishment of cruel and unusual punishment,
Outrageous fees payed for bail, pain inflicted in strange ways.
The morality of punishment made into law.
9) A common arrangement that an individuals rights,
Not written in the constitution, are secure and valid.
Yet, for some odd reason, it had to be added to prevent
Violation of these rights.
10) Finally, the abilities of each individual state
To decide and enforce for its own people.
The individuality each separate place craves and
Wants as a child wants his own decisions to be made.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue
1791 Virginia Ratifies Bill of Rights
They become the 1st 10 amendments of the U.S. Constitution
Applicable to me and you
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 2:34 AM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
The Wildest Conclusion
Who are you
To tell me
My thoughts
Aren't worth being heard
I deserve
And demand my rights
I might
Shout amendments
First,
Then commence
To irregular common sense
My stability
Is retained
By the imbalance
In my brain
You see,
I can't enable
These "Cain and Able" angels
That rest on your shoulders
Because
I ain't able
Fables
Fly out the mouth
Of an astounding author
His sound
Is profound
His prowess authorized
By his copy written
Signature
Which is his style
Italicized and laid back
Now,
Crack open
Another pack of pens
And draw out
The wildest conclusions
In deep thought
Then listen...
.The world disapproves.
The extent
Of my intentions
Were wilder than I could imagine
So I didn't know
I would take it this far
The words written
Were forbidden
In the foulest belief system
I wouldn't have wrote them
If my outrageous mind
Wasn't dying
From boredom
Boarding off the monsters
That alter ideas
From beneath the bed
They reach my head
And toy with my
Emotions
Tantalize and
Taint my tender mind
Then morph it
To be the tainter!
To picture death
You'll need help
From this
Morbid painter
Why do I
Write so wickedly
Then spread like pandemics
It's
Pandemonium momentarily
Shared with you
With whatsoever
You should do
With
Evil knowledge
Is truth
Look in your hands
I say
"Vice is right"
Can I persuade?
Like a gun used to
****** a murderer
Some executions
Are executed
At the exact moment
Of redemption
How tempting
Is it for
A wholesome man
To make
A half-hearted attempt
At prosperity
Sparingly
Laying in Evil's bed
But never staying
When he awakes
Will he use the tools
Because he learned the trade
Or teach others
To not
It's hard to reach others
When all they believe
Is a happy ending
I conclude
But
The true ending
You can't imagine
Because it's too wild
For you.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:03 PM UTC
She sits, emotionally bland,
Speaking mechanically;
Her right jaw, slightly misaligned,
From calcifications of former fractures;
And he is left-handed.
Lime-green circles about her
Distant, blue eyes indicate
That she has pleased him
This past week.
She believes that she
Is Improving, is better;
As the distance between
The necessary corrections
Is elongating, and she doesn’t
Nap as often.
He seems to love her more;
And frequently resorts
To audible amendments,
Or is too fatigued, himself,
To properly intervene
In her enlightenment.
She inhales, fidgets, re-adjusts,
To breathe without pain;
Calmly expressing accolades for
The strength, perseverance,
Of her son who doesn’t fail;
But weeps, in anonymity,
For her daughter who must
Have inherited her propensity
Toward weakness, malfunction.
Perhaps, over time,
He will see fit to guide
Their daughter with
Identical acts of love;
And she will be well.
She stares out the window,
Toward the windswept willow;
Catatonic, citing that
Past years, learning years,
Were resonating like the
Dry-fire echo of the
Empty Chamber in a game
Of Russian-Roulette.
The sound, repeated and
Sustained in dull memory;
The clicks that fed
The ugly tomorrows;
But her eyes sparkle as
She admits to a yearning,
For the strike of the pin
To fresh primer;
And she may only regret
That she will not hear
The Sound
Heralding her freedom.
Jun 11, 2010
Jun 11, 2010 at 5:27 AM UTC
You don't have to be someone else than who you are,
There're so many people out there trying to fit in
Good and the bad, all different corners of your heart
You won't ever be satisfied if you're not comfartable in your own skin
________________________________
My gears run in the opposite direction, they say I'm just a sucker for the right connections,
stare at me long enough and it's gonna' be a fatal attraction, confessions, spilling out faster than i can mention that i am a motherfuckin' slave to the latest inventions,
no harm in livin' your life like it's gonna' end in a second, pay heed to the temptations spreading out like an infection,
eats you inside and out, there was never gonna' be a question if i pay them sinners for my own destruction,
and all is lost and buried after the eruption,
corrupting my soul as i **** another door to make amendments, but my intentions are rockin' a ******** ********
separating the core and mixing it with what you're told and givin' a new complexion
and you're not 'gonna stop till you can be the source of their affection, no reflection of who you are,you're just a projection of all the things they perceive as imperfection,
and you'll make it an obsession and won't even object when they seal the deal with your objection,
It's never gonna' be enough,you'll never be able to get their attention, get recognition the way you are, they're always 'gonna be one step away from redemption,
and you're always gonna' be a step too close to taste their aggression, and you'll never be the master of your own actions, unless you can find a source to your own expressions,
tension in the atmosphere, every moment will feel like a nightmare until you can find the right connections,
and be done with the visual perceptions, failing to realise, lies they feed you and take you to the point of intersection of their deception,
and don't be too sad if you face rejection, 'cause the society is 'gonna keep putting pressure and give you all the instructions to function
and there's gonna' be no satisfaction unless you break out, shout out loud, tell them all about how beautiful it is to dysfunction
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
The second amendment might
As well be the sixty-ninth, for all
The life-long days it saves by
The transparent and glossy shields
Adorning blue-skied uniforms.
The strike zone is limited to the
Mobility-enhanced limbs, out of
Reach of the cardiac plateau, in
A line guarded by “I heart NYC”
Leftover campaign buttons.
Crowds question the timeless yet
Disintegrating rhetoric, and they
Sing along with misspelled threats
To sanguine attempts at love and
War, while grade schoolers watch.
What’s missing from this libretto
Is a slogan like “if they go low, we
Go high” and the money to borrow
It, or the right to use the copyright,
As long as it doesn’t get ******
“Now hear this,” bellows the man in
The crow’s nest, stepping in front
Of his stepson who brandishes a
BB gun proudly in his arms, “the
Curfew starts at midnight!”
Dona nobis pacem, a canon of
Faith, is hummed by the last ranks
Of veterans in camouflage, hoping
To initiate a temporary calm among
The bleak and ****** crew.
A clown-faced poet attempts to draw
A smile, as she calls for an absentee
Ballot, a circuitous frontage road
Away from destiny, some think,
And a short breath of recess.
“Take away their weapons,” hollers
A very pregnant woman, who goes
Into labor, blaming the guns for her
Untimely reward, and for a moment,
Just minutes, the midwifery begins.
All this while a small coterie of men
Gathers, silently taking in the show,
Unnoticed in their pretense, but
Sporting the heritage caps of the
NRA, stars and stripes in their lapels.
The disingenuous players in this sad
Drama are about to fold their tents,
To chicken out, to return to tacos
And beer, when stillness breaks,
So much so that crickets rule.
A small boy crosses the street, his
Smile contagious, his gait strong
As he approaches the men and
Says “I am you before now, be
Of peace and good cheer.
“My commandments have no
Amendments, no magic exceptions,
No golden calves, no wicked step-
Mothers, only a heart and soul,
I am the moral of your story.”
© Lewis Bosworth, 2016
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 12:40 AM UTC
Nuptial state!
Is it a bond?
Is it a grief?
I can see the fire at the end,
Disappearing and untouchable stars.
What is alike?
Obliging your hubbies
Cranky babies
Are they our burden?
I screamed,
Suppressing my emotions and reactions.
What is marriage?
A little adjustment, said one.
I feel it is a full of amendments.
Accommodate yourself for others.
Is this life?
Risking our future for a stranger.
How it call as divine?
Wearing a dress of his preference,
Is this call freedom?
How to live hiding my wishes?
A heartbeat is lost a dream forgotten.
Think,
If you have a child,
Will you happy ever after divorce?
It is a real lock
Locked within a ring
Are you afarid of it?
Is it an everlasting inexpliacability
No it is not,
Think slackenly,
And prefer good...
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
Deteriorated configurations that are
neither of consecutive methods
or contorted reflections,
it's upon the eye line of those who look perplexed.
For what is slumped like tired unimportance,
is neither an inflexible road,
for nothing is
either invariable or contorted
It's just a view that each takes.
Me I'm like the reed,
both woven in a paradox
of motions.
For who sees a contortionist
that's neither of each
or the other.
Riffling upon the aspects of my decisive
displacement that catches
nither the truth or the lie.
You may catch the second,
or minute,
but beyond the mirco filaments
that linger between variable glimpse
that pass.
Is more than constructive tendrils
of a lifetime of consequential
amendments or defaming the
consequential understanding
that nothing plays by the rules..
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
Its been said some people don't like to hear Merry Christmas.
But I'm going to say it.
Besides, who's going to stop me?
Who's going to violate my first amendments right?
Just who?
Courts, politicians can decide this or that.
Facts, still remains, I'm going to say Merry Christmas.
Some say, Happy Hanukkah.
Some say, Happy Kwanza.
Some say, Happy Holidays.
While I say Merry Christmas.
There's various reasons given to ,why they complains?
But in my perspective I have nothing to explain.
Accept, what I say.
As I accept, what you say.
Without making the Christmas' Season seems worse because of things we say.
Especially, when I say Merry Christmas.
And like I said, who's going to stop me?
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
Who are you
To tell me
My thoughts
Aren't worth being heard
I deserve
And demand my rights
I might
Shout amendments
First,
Then commence
To irregular common sense
My stability
Is retained
By the imbalance
In my brain
You see,
I can't enable
These "Cain and Able"
Angels
That rest on your shoulders
Because
I ain't able
Fable's fly out
The mouth
Of an astounding author
His sound is profound
His prowess authorized
By his copywritten
Signature
Which is his style
Italized
And laid back
Now,
Crack open
Another pack of pens
And draw out
The wildest conclusions
In deep thought
Then listen...
The world dissapproves
The extent
Of my intentions
Were wilder than I could imagine
So I didn't know
I would take this far
The words written
Were forbidden
In the foulest belief system
I wouldn't have
Took it this far
If my outrageous mind
Wasn't dying
From boredom
Boarding off
The monsters
That try to alter ideas
From beneath the bed
They reach my head
And toy with my
Emotions
Tantilize and
Taint my tender mind
Then morph it
To be the tainter!
To picture death
You'll need help
From this
Morbid painter
Why do I
Write so wickedly
Then spread like pandemics
It's
Pandamonion momentarily
Shared with you
With whatsoever
You should do
With
Evil knowledge
Is truth
Look in your hands
I say
"Vice is right"
Can I persuade?
Like a gun used to
****** a murderer
Some executions
Are executed
At the exact moment
Of redemption
How tempting
Is it for
A wholsome man
to make
A half-hearted attempt
At prosperity
Sparingly
Laying in Evil's bed
But never sleeping
When he awakes
Will he use the tools
Because he learned the trade
Or teach others
It's hard to reach others
When all they believe
Is a happy ending
I conclude
But
The true ending
You can't imagine
Because it's too wild
For you
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:51 PM UTC
Dreamers, wake up
For your time has come
You have spent countless nights and endless days tossing and turning in your bed of clouds sketching each thought into three dimensional designs, formulating each idea, weaving each detail perfectly together.
Dreamers, let your visions come alive and let them dance for the people who are not even given a pillow
For the people who are silenced
For the people who amendments do not defend
For the people who need you
Though some of you may not know you’ve been sleeping,
I see it
And I don’t see it in your test scores or your gpa or how often you do your homework
Or Facebook or eyeliner
Not in the promises you’ve made or the promises you’ve broken
I don’t see it in what kind of clothing you wear
I don’t see it in the color of your skin or the color of your hair,
I don’t see it in what rests between your thighs or who lies in your bed at night
I see it in the tear ducts of your eyes
And the way they dampen each time a child dies
I see it in your breath
And in your lips whenever you apologize
I see it in your trembling fingers and the goose bumps on your arms and legs
I see it in the way that you tell me you’re not
Because even the greatest of dreamers fought the greatest self-doubt
But fear not, dear dreamers
For each of you are symphonies still unsung,
Epic novels still unwritten
Algebra equations yet to be solved
Scientists are locked up in labs just begging to catch one glimpse at the way your brain pulsates
You are history textbooks in the making
But I’ve studied history through and through
And the one thing I’ve learned that remains to be true
Is that the dreamers are rarely ever spoken to
So speak every time you stand
For the way your voice shakes, the way it whimpers, the way it breaks
Is the one thing that the world can never ever take.
For as long as your lungs breathe,
And as long as your heart aches,
There are whispers to be spoken
And silences to break.
But the rest of us, have no hope, if the dreamers never wake.
So, dreamers wake now or forever hold your peace.
For there are bleeding nations crawling outside your front door step
And they’ve got no use for a snooze button.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Must we question our senses?
When people in general and various politicians speak.
Just to appear to others perspectives and views.
If we take away the second amendments?
Would folks fall apart?
If given a choice between life and a gun many would choose the wrong one.
If we take away the scriptures that supposed to guide us?
We still would take the wrong path because many still don't adhere to the holy bible.
If we take away our senses that is within all of us?
We still have the common sense to be guided correctly.
If we take away the sun?
There still be a light among us.
If we take away racism?
Just imagine how great the world would be?
But we surrounded by fools that live by the gun.
But if we take away some assault weapons?
We might see a slightly lower number.
Still, it won't solve our problem?
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:39 PM UTC
A man had no heart
He did not lose it,
He just simply did not have one
The definition of sweet said:
It's ok, I will make you one
And she gradually pieced one together
There was only one stipulation
That could not be defined as simply just or unjust
This heart was fatally connected to its creator
Instead of look for a way out
Instead of look for the easy way in
He decided to look nowhere
He need look no farther than what he had gained
Where there was a hole before
Was now plugged up with a heart
It would be foolish to say that he was now whole
To say he was a whole man
But amendments refine the crude
Time heals all, time preserves all
His life was now hers, but he could not complain
For where there was nothing, there now was all to be gained
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
The second amendment might
As well be the sixty-ninth, for all
The life-long days it saves by
The transparent and glossy shields
Adorning blue-skied uniforms.
The strike zone is limited to the
Mobility-enhanced limbs, out of
Reach of the cardiac plateau, in
A line guarded by “I heart NYC”
Leftover campaign buttons.
Crowds question the timeless yet
Disintegrating rhetoric, and they
Sing along with misspelled threats
To sanguine attempts at love and
War, while grade schoolers watch.
What’s missing from this libretto
Is a slogan like “if they go low, we
Go high” and the money to borrow
It, or the right to use the copyright,
As long as it doesn’t get ******
“Now hear this,” bellows the man in
The crow’s nest, stepping in front
Of his stepson who brandishes a
BB gun proudly in his arms, “the
Curfew starts at midnight!”
Dona nobis pacem, a canon of
Faith, is hummed by the last ranks
Of veterans in camouflage, hoping
To initiate a temporary calm among
The bleak and ****** crew.
A clown-faced poet attempts to draw
A smile, as she calls for an absentee
Ballot, a circuitous frontage road
Away from destiny, some think,
And a short breath of recess.
“Take away their weapons,” hollers
A very pregnant woman, who goes
Into labor, blaming the guns for her
Untimely reward, and for a moment,
Just minutes, the midwifery begins.
All this while a small coterie of men
Gathers, silently taking in the show,
Unnoticed in their pretense, but
Sporting the heritage caps of the
NRA, stars and stripes in their lapels.
The disingenuous players in this sad
Drama are about to fold their tents,
To chicken out, to return to tacos
And beer, when stillness breaks,
So much so that crickets rule.
A small boy crosses the street, his
Smile contagious, his gait strong
As he approaches the men and
Says “I am you before now, be
Of peace and good cheer.
“My commandments have no
Amendments, no magic exceptions,
No golden calves, no wicked step-
Mothers, only a heart and soul,
I am the moral of your story.”
© Lewis Bosworth, 2016
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
He Don't
want me but he loves to **** me , cover it up with words of love, Words &promises;, like I'll do better& we can start again.Sorry.
He Don't
want me but as I grow and my body swells I laugh within myself,I lead my self down this destructive road knowingly, given in to my own self needs, My want to be happy wasn't meant to be hiss imprisonment, The words thou the Way he said em ,The ways he feed them in to me,Left me feeling Unique,Special,Like a Queen, & him then The king of all kings, His subjects groveling at his feet.
He Don't want me
and no matter how much I want to do this all over again Knowing the results in the end is already evidently clear, I wont win,Not him,He's not up for grabs, not a treat to be had, Just the trick-ster playing on my lonely heart, When it comes to the Man I want yeah He came real close ,closer then most for me to still be dwelling on past Re living it as I see myself leaving in stead of spreading wide for him..
He Don't want me
No matter what we say or do, I know this to already be true, like the declaration's and amendments set forth for something better, protection was better,
How funny I'm the only one paying the price in this life time, Man Oh Man I can count past my hands how many times I heard "girl you know I only want you" or "be my wifey"
& lets not for get he says over & over again "I'll take care of you".
Funny the caring and all the rest He's said to the lil' no ones- like me plus that wifey thing He's been spitting to them other Chicks he calls queen,
I've now seen him with so many, So many times since claiming me His queen
& its been long since know that He Don't want me.
So I'll LEAVE!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 8:17 PM UTC
As I sit down to write tonight,
I engage a painful sight,
I can't trust this,
Kangaroo courts version of justice,
It just isn't right.
Innocent women and kids,
Losing their life.
There futures so bright,
They could insight,
maybe, if given a fair chance at life,
They could have been the one to write
the amendments, to the bill of rights,
That condemn those who take a life.
And make things right,
Using history's hindsight,
to govern wrong from right
But,
This a is game, not a life.
Such a painful thing,
cuts deeper than a knife.
Wrong or right, crossing the line,
between black or white,
the grey matter, doesn't matter,
If you can afford the bill,
justice gets sacrificed.
All men created equal,
I guess that part comes,
in the after life.
In this unjust life,
if the price is right,
You can take a life,
And bill your rights,
Like a light bill,
the only difference is,
Your taking a life.
Court approved, Hung jury
So it's alright.
Forget,
What's wrong from right,
The guilty, becoming a celebrity, over night.
Get an expensive attorney,
use the law as a mockery,
Then cop a plea, pay a fee,
bargain it from all degrees, and get set free.
All I you need is the right legal team,
And you do it legally.
To handle it judicially, which means
Basically,
Using a system built to protect me-- against me.
setting criminals free, now they're running free,
in our community. Legal mutiny, judging me
a mistaken identity; between the innocent and guilty.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC