"cooperates" poems
(When The Rains Come)
Our house stands on a valley
early summer evenings find people strolling
specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars,
and a full moon cooperates with a glow
Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening?
no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night
finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting
conversation and laughter fill the air...
In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls
there live the troubled, homeless souls
they, too, want to breathe the evening air
they leave their improvised homes
find dark spaces, where they turn bolder
some toughened...almost numbed
their litanies, held within
their eyes, beyond shedding tears
their faces stained with sadness and frustration
due to failed expectations
Around these dark spaces
are where callous eyes meet wary looks
where angels mingle with demons
where, most times, indifference wins
against compassion.
Twice,
i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman
i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare
but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.
Both of my shoulders would not suffice
to ease the burden this old woman carried
how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end?
how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away,
because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected
just more unpleasant things to come up.
The rains have finally come...our valley
most often, turns into a gully
where it seems to be raining forever.
i think of the old woman with black eyes
if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again?
shivering from the cold rain?
where could she be seeking shelter
now that summer
is finally over?
Sally
Copyright May 23, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 2:40 AM UTC
In Pakistan
The CIA has bombed bombs funerals in Pakistan
I heard in this interview
Yes this nation sometimes kills the innocent
But that is nothing new
The Pakistani government cooperates
With the drone strikes
The UN investigation is being stalled by our government
This high ranking U.S. official said,
"We are the only country that thinks
We can use drones wherever we want,
Outside of a hot battlefield."
U.S. citizens are told the strikes are lawful
Our courts are being blocked from
Weighing in on the issue
They have had hardly any impact on the Taliban
According to the state department
Al Qaeda is 10 times stronger in Yemen today
Than when the drone program was started
According to the expert
Tactically they can be successful
Strategically we too often don't know what
We are doing with them
Often the operators
Are traumatized by what they experience
3 or 4 year stints with no down time
The operators were internalizing their experiences
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Why didn't you get it?
You just thought it was one of my phases
But on the inside I knew I was going crazy
Why didn't you understand me?
Oh the irony of that statement.
That you can understand the children with the needs of the special needs
But you cant understand your own child
Who's brain functions and cooperates
Quite clearly
She is calling out for help
But you cant see that
Now she is crying out to you from her hospital bed.
From her asylum.
Bruised around her neck.
Scars across her wrist.
Scratched up and down her arms.
Cut to deep,
In a coma from the draining of her sweet crimson.
Because she let the pain tear through her.
She let it tear though her....
And it threw her
Over the edge
I am pouring out to you through this poem.
Before I let my pain
Push me over
And I Am crying silently to myself in my asylum.
From the scars down my wrist
And the painkillers that were once in my hand
In my coma
Because I let the pain tear through me
And I've become this person I can no longer control.
I could never control myself.
So please
At my funeral I want all of you to see rainbows
And I'll see you in white
When you meet me
In heaven
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
How free are you?
You wake up every day at a predetermined time that cooperates with your early morning schedule.
You hurry up and eat and get ready to make it to school.
When you get to school you have X minutes to be ready for class.
You run to a class you don't like but apparently need to make it there on time.
You sit for X amount of time in a classroom participating in activities and lectures you couldn't care less about.
Then, once the bell dismisses you, you run to another class, hoping to make it on time to the exact same situation you just faced.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
When the final bell lets you leave, you run to sports or speech practice or something you do to pad your resume, and work hard at a frivolous activity for X hours.
Once the practice is over, you run to your house to do the X hours of homework you have to do for those same classes that you spent X hours suffering through earlier that day.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
You work on a project and hurry to turn it in before an arbitrary deadline.
You finally turn it all in or get it done, and go off to do the nightly routine.
And as you lay your head down to your pillow, you set your alarm to that same time as every other night, like winding the clock backwards 24 hours to repeat what you just did once again.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
How much time was your time. When did you make your own choices?
I ask again:
How free are you?
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
*synergism [ˈsɪnəˌdʒɪzəm sɪˈnɜː-]
n
1. The working together of two or more drugs to produce an effect greater than the sum of their individual effects
2. Christian theol the doctrine or belief that the human will cooperates with the Holy Spirit and with divine grace, esp in the act of conversion or regeneration*
I sent a handful of capsules down my throat with the sting of alcohol.
The pills were meant to **** the pain whose source was long forgotten,
but one at a time just didn't work for me.
They needed something else.
So I indulged in an addict's fantasy.
The Doctors told me it was dangerous.
The warnings on the bottle did just the same.
I did it anyways.
"Don't drive your car, don't take them on an empty stomach. The side effects are poor."
but he didn't tell me who I'd see.
I closed my eyes and the numbness hit me.
And when I opened my eyes I could have sworn I was flying.
The ceiling above me breathed and exhaled.
It was then when I saw him.
I came face to face with whom I've come to know as God.
He was not what I expected.
This figure was not the almighty man that legend has made him out to be.
The folklore passed on for generations was wrong.
My Mother was a God-fearing woman,
and at this moment I understood why.
His hair was sparse and his skin was ghostly white.
The frailty of his body made my stomach tie in knots as I examined him.
Maybe it was the pills and the alcohol breaking each other down.
His eyes were milky blue and could not see me.
His mouth moved just as mine.
"Help me."
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
We as a culture/society/civilization. We **** and plunder the earth. We take advantage of her destroying her, and her natural resources. Caring not for future generations to come. Only thinking of the here and now, are we really so selfish! Does that really require questioning when all along the answer is known. We use her for our own gain, tearing into her rich dark flesh. Reaping the benefits of her bountiful splendor. Never fully replenishing that which we steal away, and she in all her glory and unyielding strength selflessly cooperates. Bending but never breaking to our will. We pollute her, poisoning her rivers, her oceans, her lakes, her streams, her ponds and create stagnant pools of filth. Our sole contribution to the world is, nay, will be the ruin of us all. All the while, whilst we destroy her so seemingly infinite beauty she rewards us. With the edible fruition of her labor and clear, clean liquid from her ***** to quench our ever increasing thirst. And in return, to give thanks, to praise her we bury decay in her fertile womb. Only to later perhaps even decades so wonder even (perplex/ purport) as to why she is baron and cold. Buried under mounds of suffocating concrete we take her for grantide. If ever she breathes a complaint we point the finger elsewhere. Never pausing to reflect on self and come to the realization of what we are doing to her to ourselves, to the generations yet to come to our lineage to our desendants, to our very lively hood. The question that really needs to be asked here is when did we begin to pride ourselves over that which has existed longer than we could ever fully begin to fathom. That thrived despite our lack of existence and hopefully will again far after we have perished and all but ceased to have existed at all.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
Her eyes speak her smile communicates
She is mine the wind whispers in my ears
Heart to heart she lovingly cooperates
Let me communicate taste of atmospheres
Love has a flavor which can really be felt
Beauty has charisma which just inherent
As snow in winter on burning fire is to melt
Love being center of gravity to bear brunt
Love has its charisma beauty its influence
My love you i love you from the core of heart
We both now are considered our reference
Let us be companions just never ever to depart
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC
noises
everywhere
my ears are deaf
from the cries of pain
my body is numb
from the endless rain
I tell myself
to find
a place,
warm myself
no part of me
cooperates
for I know
that deep down
the world is crumbling
always breaking
and I just
have to keep
holding on
until it
stops shaking.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
To allow yourself to feel
is the strongest thing
a human can do.
When we feel,
we are raw.
They say vulnerability
makes us weak—
But the truth is:
being vulnerable
makes you even stronger.
Because you have nothing to hide,
nothing to run from.
Your body cooperates
with your mind.
In Sanskrit, they call it — sahaja —
that which is born with you.
Feelings are not a weakness,
they are our guide.
To feel is to be.
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC