"creped" poems
You’ll find them in all such establishments,
(Be they graceful small-town former Victorian homes,
Or cinderblock edifices mindful of some campus multi-faith center)
Sitting in the basement, cheek-to-jowl
With moldering burial records and banking statements,
Yellowed newspaper clippings, faded prayer cards
Small squared-off boxes hastily tabbed together,
Ostensibly temporary containers which have acquired
An unintended and wholly unwelcome permanence.
The whys and wherefores of their subterranean placement
A mixed bag of foible and outright foolishness:
Unresolvable squabbles concerning possession and burial,
Families that skipped out on the bill, leaving mom behind,
Cases of outright not giving a good-goddamn.
And so they remain, in lieu of repatriation and redemption,
To sit for something akin to perpetuity in some cases
(Members of the profession resolute in their respect
For the dignity of life,
Though their sincerity enjoys less unanimity)
While others wait for mass burial
Once legal niceties have been satisfied,
While still others, in care of firms not so scrupulous
About crossing their t’s and dotting their i’s,
Are flung, albeit somewhat surreptitiously, out the back door,
The remains to take flight if the grass is dry and the wind is brisk,
Otherwise to be left to the vagaries
Of curious birds and creped soles.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC
She said its easy as pie
Just do it right and no one will know
But as I looked down
At his half sunken face
I thought to myself
Its easier said then done
And as I bent down
To grab his cold pale ankles
A funny thought came to my head
Just last month I saw him and said
You are one in a million
The only one in the world
But as secrets slowly creped out
And as gossip spread
One girl came before me
"You know what they say," she rasped
Her lips curled as she glared
"The good ones never stay long."
And as her sharp words cut through me
I tried to keep my bleeding heart together
I ran as fast as I could back to my home
Right back to my room
I was down in the dumps
Felt used and unloved
And as I heard his hand touch the handle
I stood in guard
And waited for his last words
"I will not have my heart broken again," said I
And at last, as I stood over his crimson body
She strolled right in
With that same evil smile
I felt cut and dried
And it was all my fault
With nothing I could do
And as I covered his stone body
With the earths damp dirt
I thought to myself
He was one in a million
The only one in the world
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
There exist nothing that roots me to this earth
The only thing that stops me from taking my life is the trouble it would be worth
Money paid for service and a creped box
The time spent and lost of the attended 'loved ones'
I guess until I find a way to bury myself outside of metaphoric rhymes
I will continue to exist and write these lines
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
Words left unspoken
Pain left unbearable
Time that's irretrievable
A life that's unlivable
Where words were left unspoken, time continuously creped away becoming yet a memory.
The pain makes life unlivable.
The knife that cut her skin left scars - still a constant reminder of the pain unbearable.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
He came here, and said, in passing,
“The town meeting was adjourned
due to the tower.” The expanding
image of the tower, and the shadow
of the adjournment creped and dovetailed,
until dissolving perceptions at the periphery
changed into what remained of the familiar
and washed away in diminishing September
twilight tributaries of great modern rivers, now
adjured, now forgotten. But, despite adjudication
and adjustment, a question remained, became a
void in the forest, flattened its shadow, biding its time.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
Time and space
I sat down
Time and space
Went though a vortex of illusion
Stumble on a distant relationships between life and soul
hey there
yessaaa
how you do
good
yourself I don't know
volatile confusion creeps up
it hits you in the doors between reality and illusion
help were am i
Help
hey there
yessaaa
how you do
good
yourself i don't know
'haven't i been here before
i don't know
hey there
yessaaaa
how you do
good
yourself i don't know
before to long
the paradox of illusions creped up on me
on me the illusions came
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
As we watch
the world change
before our very
eyes without
knowing and
understanding
what is really
going on.
In slow motion
like a movie,
it takes all of us
by surprise.
Slowly like the
anaconda creped
in for the ****
Everyone seems
blind to see the
Thucydides trap.
We blink to it's
brightness as it
shines before us.
The rising Nachi and
the dominant Ricaame,
now towards a
violent collision
no one wants.
The sun shines
so brightly and
the new world
order in place,
perfectly penetrating
into the socioeconomic
system of the world
with excellent smoothness.
We can summon
the common sense
and courage to avoid it.
Understanding power play
gives us the
reasons we as
citizens of the world
should understand and
challenge the power that be.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 7:15 AM UTC