jeffrey conyers Jan 2013

Locked down and secure.
In protective custody over you.
And, they claim my love is the evidence to convict.
And I can't say it don't make sense.
Cause it's true.

I'll serve my time quietly.
While being in the custody of you.

You can guard me twenty four seven.
You're my angel of love sent from heaven.

John F McCullagh Dec 2011

In Brooklyn, in these hectic times,
if Mom-hood gets you down
you need a little pick me up
so you won't fret and frown.

When we boomers were just babies
Mom might have a glass of wine.
Just enough to take the edge off
and leave her feeling fine.

But Generation X and Y
are more like Cheech and Chong
when baby gets your dander up
It's time to light a bong.

A little toke of Mary Jane
gives Moms a pause to sigh.
"Good night Moon" is a gripping read
when Mom is flying high.

Put the little Prince to bed
before Mom has a fit.
Motherhood is stressful
she just needs to take a "hit"

When the" little terrors" get you down
Just think - "this too will pass"
sneak off and roll yourself a joint
We know you have a stash.

Inspired by a New York Post article detailing recreational marijuana use among Young Mother's in Brooklyn and Manhattan. Lighting up has replaced a glass of wine as the go to choice of Moms in need of stress relief.
Styles Aug 2015

The day you met me
And you told me
that you loved me
And took my heart
Into custody.
               NOW THAT YOUR GONE
               TIME WONT GET IT BACK FOR ME.

Cheyenne Baker Dec 2015

When I was younger, I would wait for him
to die. I loved him - at least I wished I did.
He used to be my D.A.D., and acronym.

Remaining in the mobile home, amid
his “hidden” sex toys and unlocked arsenal-
when he would return, my brother and I hid.

His I.Q.? Soaring, but he lacked a soul,
he killed kittens for fun and never got caught.
Covert sociopath; maintaining control.

Court ordered visits left my mother distraught,
she wrestled the system over us for years,
our knight in shining armor that always fought.

The battle was won after many shed tears -
to a virgin life we forged, pioneers.

nothing pushed my creativity
more than someone trying to
take my baby daughter from me
peaceful on the outside
to helping
I always wanted to save the world
now it is with unmatched
and inescapable vengeance
helping everyone
especially my students
with early childhood trauma
but deep down in my world of communication
a whirlwind that no one really knows
but I must add
I now have absolutely no doubt
that the passion that has been
culminated in society
that I get to experience
comes from the shared experience
of children being taken into slavery
this is the destruction of the human origin
which we need to have a nice happy ending
we all come from Africa
not from slavery
and when I am a black man
all my lifetimes that have been
tortured and killed
for being accused of being angry
by any means necessary
genocide of us
the only choice is creativity
and although this in itself
is also a threat
and will get me killed
atleast it does not satisfy
their lust for dismembering
my freedom
into their pickle jars
of liberty
for their children to save for their children;=elan%20gregory&qid;=1459178234&ref;_=sr_1_1&sr;=8-1
Aseh Feb 2015

My hands were shaking
Not as hard as yours, I'm sure

You almost lost everything and I
was forced to watch,
bearing silent witness to a
destruction not my own
but at which I felt at fault,
thus I digested it as my own

Who knows?

In my mind, I had lived fantasies of
something like this happening--
you, helpless, I hold fast to your life and then
salvaging you, just barely,
scaring us both out of life and then
falling back into something new--
dark, strange, and yet intimate

This has happened to me twice now (for real)
and neither time was nearly as glamorous as
I had played out in my mind

(I'm a stupid girl)

Both times I felt drained of a vital energy I couldn't
call back--ever

I became an echo
of me
and us?
we were skeletons of
the children we once were. Both times
robbed me---
of sleep, and years, and appetite.
robbed me---
of innocence, and soul, and
which always
bleeds out uncontrollably
in times like these

and out with love
spreads guilt and shame

(I'm a jinx, I'm a cursed girl)

across the tar, filling the black empty
cracks with invaluable energy

Full of foreign weight
cargo stored too long
too far pushed down our throats
too removed

My hands were shaking
Not as hard or as long as yours
I'm sure

cd Aug 2015

my favourite song is sail to the moon live by radiohead and when he replied that it was his as well I was overwhelmed
we layed together and let the haunting phonics echo through your room


I pressed my head to your chest and let your heart beat sync with the sound

two days later you told me you loved me and I was astounded when I heard the same words fall from my lips

I fell asleep listening to radiohead my head on the pillow and my heart in your hands

everyone warns you about heartbreak
They say that young love never lasts
and while they may be right I ask
Myself why I was never warned of the danger of a different kind of fracture

You broke my taste in music you jerk

Teenage relationships don't generally end in divorces but the forces were at play and it ended anyway

Nobody worries about who walks away with the songs you've loved since childhood

Like Bono was my dude but you loved Beautiful Day so now we're not on good terms

Like Real People Do was the jam but you ruined it man

Why did I have to talk to you about music,
Janis Joplin, was poppin and Bob Dylan was killin but I told you all about it and now I'm not about it

the opening bars of sail to the moon rip me in open

and while we didnt have children I'm the short amount of time that we were living
In each other's embrace

music was our offspring and someone should have warned me about this thing where you aren't supposed to overshare
and though I have many questions about why it ended, why it's still going on, the biggest are why I told you my favourite song
and after the pseudo divorce

Who the hell gets custody of radiohead??

nivek Aug 2015

nothing as sobering as a cop stopping your vehicle
even when you are riding completely legitimate

and even then with the latest figures of stop and search
you very may end up in the funeral parlour, if your black arse offends

Cassandra Dec 2016

The snow drifts from the roof tops,
Lights shine in the brisk evening.
Cheer is spread,
Joy follows behind the winter winds.

Letters are sent North to Saint Nick,
Children dream of what might come in the early morn,
Prayers are shared around the dinner table.
Memories are created to be never forgotten.
Stories being shared with those you love.

Tears fall upon my pillow,
While bellows of laughter echo,
From the other side of the bedroom door.
Life seems to be coming to a stop.

My only Christmas wish is to be by your side,
Surrounded by the most welcoming family,
The warmest love,
The family I always hoped to be apart of...
Yet it still isnt feeling like Christmas.

The joy, cheer and laughter being stolen away,
The pain hiding behind a fake smile..
The words echo "it could be worse."
If its true I dont want to know what it is.

My only prayer is that I wake up by your exciting yells.
All my letters to dear Saint Nick saying one thing.
"Please bring him home."
All go unanswered.

My only Christmas wish is to hear you say,
"Im home Mommy."
Hold you in my arms as we see what Santa has blessed you with.

Then what shall we call them
if we are to become men?

shall we say,
'another day is as good'

It's a mystery tour around the graves,
the dead, only
Jesus saves,
the living can rot

they paint pictures
I've got some
Old Masters
and then some,
a mistress in waiting?

It is time and a bit
to ponder on it

reflections in mirrors are
scissors that cut me,

but it's not me anymore
that I see

is the door locked?
is the dog in?
questions begin when reality sends
me a love bite

sit tight and hold on
to the one if it's your
and let the world spin.

Life has really been so strange to me. Moments cascade through my mind. A picture here, a sound there, all nostalgia.

Bullfrog eggs in a tractor tire filled with water,
and I am 6 and I am alone.
I am in the woods,
and I am away from home.
I am missing my mom,
who has been gone a while.
I am strange,
in the mind of a child.

When My grandparents stole me from my drug addicted mother,
I felt as if i couldn't go on, like I would truly smother.
5 was to young to be ripped away from her,
and I would be underestimating it if i said it just hurt.
It was like my air supply had been ripped from my lungs
It was like I was on autopilot pretending to have fun.
a New school No mom, no dad either.
Just grand ma and Grandpa, they did keep it cleaner,
but it wasn't the same.
To me it was insane.
It was different it was wrong..
I couldn't go on.

Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010

He thwack no metronome to kick oneself
Thwack his dick sucker
With his monolithic flaccid trunk rubber
Me and my Dalek doped
And my excrement unsweetened
Copulate in the open without my jockstrap
You shat encrusted to what you deflowered
So at arm’s length sucked from all that we excreted in the wind’s eye
And I bounce a bedevilled backwash
My incredibles are shafted
I’ll shit anal to Arab

We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You shit posterior to her
And I shit anal to…
I shit anal to myself

I fondle you powerfully
The body beautiful’s not enough to go round
You enjoy spanking and I wallow in ejaculate
And spunk is like a tobacco teabag
And I’m a bijou dong coming the corsets in custody

We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You shit posterior to her
And I shit anal to…

Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab
I shit anal to…
I shit anal to…

We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You shit anal to her
And I shit anal to Arab

Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
John F McCullagh Mar 2012

It’s unique in jurisprudence,
this case I must decide.
Child custody is disputed
between a woman and her bride.
One spouse supplied a fertile egg,
The other gave it womb.
Deciding custody is a challenge
in the absence of a groom.
Was one woman just a donor?-
having no parental rights.
Was the birth mother just a surrogate?
It’s keeping me up nights.
To which mother should I give the child?
Which one will I turn away?
I cannot cut the child in half
to let each have their way.
Its tragedy when Love had died,
leaving children in its wake.
I gave birth mother custody-
Have I made a bad mistake?

This poem is based on a case now pending before the Supreme court in the state of Florida.
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