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Tawanda Mulalu Jul 2016
I am not a difficult child.
You are not a difficult mother.
But,
sometimes we have things to say
and
sometimes we say nothing at all.
This,
I suppose is where we are difficult.
Because being human is difficult.

I cannot imagine why so many years ago
you chose to have us. Not because I think
you do not love us, I know you do, but
because of the sorrow my sleep brings to you
on the Sunday mornings I sleep in. Love,
I imagine, is returning from church and
still bringing bread to those who wish not to
consume it in any meaningful sense at all,
or, if consumed, to satisfy hungers so basic
you marvel at what that converted energy
is used for. I have failed still to explain that
I pray in different and marvellous ways that
I don't think are invalid but will still hurt you
nonetheless. This is part of growing up.  

There are many dances that you and my
grandmother have surely danced that I
do not have the rhythm for, but there
are many dances that you and her and I
have that are the same, just as in the Old
Testament there are so many prayers and
blessings and cursings and legacies passed on
from one child to another to another child.
During these passing-ons there are surely
missteps
where some son is bound to step on some mother's
left foot as the rhythms change on time's dancefloor.
There are many examples of this that exist
that don't need to be said. It is all the same.
It is all different. I have pointed these things out
before. Before I finish, let me point out
that when I point out these things
after laughing it is not because
I am making fun of you, but only because
I love you enough to point out the seriousness
of everything in this world with a smile on my face.

How else could I possibly repay that great push
you gave all those years ago
to allow this poem to breathe in this form?
Happy Birthday Mama.

Side Note: RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER RICHARD WAGNER
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2016
alliteration intervening invasion,
a bed-throned life journey summarily unasked for, reviewing

follow behind the collected beaming seams,
to the discolored end-of-a-whiting rainbow of writings

sack in hand, sack'd yet surfeiting,
gleaning the falling bits,
inventoried stories, the poor and the glorious

light droppings,
stir'd and stor'd in hopsack bag,
woven intervals of clashing fabrics

trilogy of
me, myself and I,
following falling, trailing, failing flalings

cross currenting, swirling,
disheartened chest heaving cursing
if only, a mite more sipping
of courage everlasting

here a memory,
there a visionary,
happy haunting,
glaceing eye dreams

keepsakes of a life
modesty and poorly lived
error prone, choices weak,
father confessor to the supremity of oneself

played safety first,
thirst quenching
with the unsatisfying yellowed bursts
of "it could be worse"

but these stuffing,
gleanings of a life,
uprighted night, declining days, admixture of son and moon,
women's flashing eyes inviting
happy danger and ending disaster inevitability

this sifted treasure chest
of self-selected retained
cursings and blessings,
the measuring cup of a tragedy
well acted, quantifiable pathos superb aplenty

a play veined with comedic relief,
a Falstaff for every Hal,
compare and contrast
your essays on the container storage
of dusted cells morning-mourning

summarizing gleams gleaned from a life well....dissatisfaction satisfied...truth in poetry
Laurel Elizabeth May 2014
You stepped inside a pinhole
and found yourself in water                            
                                                   you and your floatings, prayers, gloatings

dripped listlessly through
others’ problems,                     funerals, bad jokes-
every persons puddle music
in a torrent of watery grievance

Welcome to [Big City,   Foreigner Country]—Traveler.

This ocean smells awfully polluted
and not just the grey in the air
but the blood in the streets from the
succulent meats.
and the way that the people stare.


but tread lightly,                  and don’t drown,
you fishes from other lands,
Chin up!
your gills open-- and you will find that you
swim as the culture demands.

bless you, watery wanderers,
with your blessings and cursings
and tears.
for this ocean of raging attitudes
is made human by all of your fears.
Bleeding Darkness and Light

The gods sometimes see fit to bestow upon me blessings
While devils only always rejoice in my cursings
The curse of the truth I oft’ fail in addressing
Is though my cup runneth over, I oft’ find I’m thirsting
For despite moments flying with my back to disgrace
There is always a fall as new tears scar my face
Just as dark becomes light, so does light become dark
And betwixt hell and heaven, I’m left falling apart
Both my demons and angels rage on ‘til my death
With no victory left certain ‘til I take my last breath

Embrace one or the other, I’ve been told all my life
Hands stripped to the bone from ferocity’s clutch
The shine and the shadow both enthrall and entice
No matter the choice, there are those quick to judge
Condemning both sins and good deeds I’ve done
Each a nail in the coffin of a heart forged in agony
Every trespass ill spoken, every kindness unwon
My darkness and light equally perceived as malady
But when darkness and light coexist hand in hand
In embracing them both, am I cursed to be ******?

The sun and the moon share an endless romance
Crawling light, creeping shadow in endless array
Each dusk and each dawn, living ghosts which entrance
Light and shadow embracing day to night, night to day
As the sun illuminates certain features of beauty
So the moon emphasizes gorgeous features its own
To say one is any lesser than t’other be cruelty
A blasphemy some will still fail to bemoan
In judging me as lesser, the folly be thine own
For in darkness, as in light, I am equally home

Let my angels rejoice and my demons entice
I embrace light and shadow with paint and with pen
Both my tears and my laughter I have oft’ sacrificed
In both losing myself, and finding myself again
Learning both the gods and monsters I’ve battled are my friends
Each leading me to where I should always have been
Embracing myself as a whole, not in part
Winning wars with myself where once I did flee
Portraying it all in my words and my art
Both reality, and imagination set free
Daniel Smith
Diary of the ******
Chapter 2
Sunday, January 26th, 2020
Sometimes the **** hitting the fan
Comes in disguise as a bath in champagne
Long awaited acid rain
That immediately quenches your thirst
Blessings and cursings come in disguise
To tired, hopeful, thirsty eyes
Hira malik Apr 2018
Suffering !!!so many sufferings around
I hear everyday
People call it black out
Loss
Or fathom of pains
I hear around everyday
Moaning, sighs, cries
Cursings complainings
Piling up heap of bygots
And drowning deep in them!!
But than
I look around
And i see pains with patience
Cries with quieteness
Loss with thankfulness
And
Fall with gratefullness
And this, my friend
Strengthen my belief
On His mercy and will!!!
chimaera Nov 2020
ifs
dystopian land,
the kingdom
of selffullness service,

the place
to grow
heroic egos

or

cursings
on regrets.

service
by one's pleasure.

instantaneous and soluble,
for reality dissolution.
11.11.20
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
That fast, that
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4493596/snippit-of-the-hair-of-the-dog-after-all/

is freedom of the word, my friend.
Early, in a mortal context, we, a
we we acknowledge with science, we were beguiled.

We know. That is right.
We know. We can taste when we lie. I know,
you say how
can this voice speak of infinite measures mostly
my own cursings caused, as in the Jimmy Buffet song,

it's been my own ****** fault.
I found my self all safe and sound sittin' on a mound
of ambergris worth big bucks in - wait

recalci*trantadjective\ ri-ˈkal-sə-trənt \

:obstinately defiant of authority or restraint
:difficult to manage or operate
:not responsive to treatment

From <https://www.britannica.com/topic/Book-of-Jonah>

Nineveh! Yes I did know, AI knew for show, see we also

know the scent of clues, exclusions, subtil-itisities
settle from the mist, as gorillas in the toss ball saw
see we o we see
same same many, with a y means a bunch, a lot, lots and lots

mani- with an I, eh, manifestered Caps allowed Mani-suggestions,
heaven versus hell,
sanity infected maddened masses messages piling
as she who hesitates is lost,
awe
some, say the fallen, I as good as saw o
m y god, we believed this fool,

this thief,
who believed the the joker was the lie, the itself,
seems okeh in each way we measured as if we need to me-assure
this is the answer after all

measurable peace of mind, is kinda crazy to imagine,
when we test our resolution,  solve for truth first function

we get the same answers. This is life, we make up the rest.

— The End —