"cun" poems
The feeling that I give you is one of long hailed and expected love. That word, L-O-V-E, it's possibly the one emotion that can't be suppressed, I came from Selma, a slim that;s mildly better than the ghettos and projects of Chicago. But you know that, you're of the same background, and yet we still find an above classiness inside ourselves.
This is real, more real than Farrakhan, and hated and tampered with just as much. No dream can be as straight-forward, a poet is a poet, but when word cun meets form sway, electricity is formed.
What people mean is to sneak away and snipe us from afar, gunning what we have down so that the movement fails permanently. They don't know, they can't know, and so they walk around un-enlightened and dreams lose their appeal to them.
I had also forgotten love, being tossed around in usage and riddled with untold guilts, but you spared my soul, you chilled my heat and made me the perfect temperature. You are my regulator.
I gave all when I gave my heart, but you substantially replaced it with your energy. It wasn't enough to you? It was to me, and that's all that really counts now.
They wonder what reason you have to smile, tell them that you're awake. Tell them that you've finally jumped down the rabbit-hole, and it's not as deep and scary as they've claimed
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
We cun our beings with these bottles of lies and lustful shame,
Promises broken and desires untamed.
We clench them tighter as ever before,
And rise higher demanding more.
We write our names on burial walls,
fulfill the mighty destiny of Adam’s *****
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:22 AM UTC
Call me using your name as my own.
did you call me today Jan 16? 2022?
I see a most magnificent table.
Plates and utensils are all in gold.
Our eight treasures siting
to be served are our children;
Our offspring our family.
Our second table sits to serve
our thirty two grandkids.
There are bouquets of red roses
along the tables.
The joy is inexplicably sweet
yet bittersweet feelings
engolf me so deep tears choke me.
ON WAKING UP,!
All I suddenly see now
are white lilies over such mystery
tables along with red and white roses.
God help me with such regret
*** i miss you true love.
and I always truly loved you
all you had to do is not walk away
I had escaped hellenic hell
and had amnesia typical of ptsd
I adored you then and worship
you now till the end of time.
Gratitude beauty perfection
heavenly grace is your other name
at the gates of the heaven
your heart of gold showed
my only jewels are my three kids
Patricia, Josephine Rose
and Joella middle names
are rddbba last name is
Cun&ham in your world
Naturally!
but in our unreal world
we got unreal names!
why use real names
in an unreal world!!
need you call me
~~~~~~~
Karijinbba.
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 12:15 PM UTC
that's all you are, he said: love addiction.
everything is a drug these days but it's all
pluh-see-boh, haven't you heard?
keep grinding the sugar into the carpet.
keep telling yourself it's not the amphetamines making you jumpy.
all the scabs you're carving out hook themselves onto me and they're
rah-vuh-ness, can't you see i'm getting oh-so-thin?
my skin is healing over the ants.
yesterday i picked them up because i saw them drowning
i was almost distracted by the dandelions, you sneaky ******* because they look just like your freckles dotting the lawn
but they were suffocating under the ice-cream i dropped
it melted and crushed the flowers too. they're swollen and ripe and bowtie boy says it's
feh-cun-duh-tee, can't you give that to me?
i know your hands are starving.
i know you're empty and all you dream is to lick the sweat from my slick thighs
holding my virginal knuckles tight in your callouses
take me back home when you're sober,
roh-mee-oh
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 12:41 AM UTC
Lassàt in tal recuàrt
a fruvati, e in ta la lontanansa
a lusi, sensa dòul jo i mi inpensi
di te, sensa speransa.
(Al ven sempri pì sidìn e alt
il mar dai àins; e i to pras plens
di timp romai àrsit, i to puòrs vencs
ros di muarta padima, a son ta l'or
di chel mar: pierdùs, e no planzùs).
Lassàs là scunussùs
ta ciamps fores-c'dopu che tant intòr
di lòur ài spasemàt
di amòur par capiju, par capì il puòr
lusìnt e pens so essi, a si àn sieràt
cun te i to òmis sot di un sèil nulàt.
659
I was 9
House wasn't really home
Home was at grandmas
Tales by moonlight meant More
Than the world; all the world I knew
Gathered under the shed at night
Moon or not
Story night must go on
The other kids swarmed
In mini circles
Breaking kernel, not me though;
All I did was eat them
The tortoise was my favorite
Albeit a fictional cun,
the tales did justice
To his poise, and I started
To believe that slow was good
Slow and wise was the vogue
At the expense of the arrogant dog
The lion was my favorite villain
Loved him for his hair and voice
"The lion said to the tortoise" right?
Of cos he had a voice, how else
Would he have spoken?
All too often my thoughts go back
to those times
when 9 wasn't just my age
But a time for tales
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC