Thus did he speak, and they all held their peace throughout the
covered cloister, enthralled by the charm of his story, till presently
Alcinous began to speak.
  “Ulysses,” said he, “now that you have reached my house I doubt
not you will get home without further misadventure no matter how
much you have suffered in the past. To you others, however, who come
here night after night to drink my choicest wine and listen to my
bard, I would insist as follows. Our guest has already packed up the
clothes, wrought gold, and other valuables which you have brought
for his acceptance; let us now, therefore, present him further, each
one of us, with a large tripod and a cauldron. We will recoup
ourselves by the levy of a general rate; for private individuals
cannot be expected to bear the burden of such a handsome present.”
  Every one approved of this, and then they went home to bed each in
his own abode. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn,
appeared, they hurried down to the ship and brought their cauldrons
with them. Alcinous went on board and saw everything so securely
stowed under the ship’s benches that nothing could break adrift and
injure the rowers. Then they went to the house of Alcinous to get
dinner, and he sacrificed a bull for them in honour of Jove who is the
lord of all. They set the steaks to grill and made an excellent
dinner, after which the inspired bard, Demodocus, who was a
favourite with every one, sang to them; but Ulysses kept on turning
his eyes towards the sun, as though to hasten his setting, for he
was longing to be on his way. As one who has been all day ploughing
a fallow field with a couple of oxen keeps thinking about his supper
and is glad when night comes that he may go and get it, for it is
all his legs can do to carry him, even so did Ulysses rejoice when the
sun went down, and he at once said to the Phaecians, addressing
himself more particularly to King Alcinous:
  “Sir, and all of you, farewell. Make your drink-offerings and send
me on my way rejoicing, for you have fulfilled my heart’s desire by
giving me an escort, and making me presents, which heaven grant that I
may turn to good account; may I find my admirable wife living in peace
among friends, and may you whom I leave behind me give satisfaction to
your wives and children; may heaven vouchsafe you every good grace,
and may no evil thing come among your people.”
  Thus did he speak. His hearers all of them approved his saying and
agreed that he should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken
reasonably. Alcinous therefore said to his servant, “Pontonous, mix
some wine and hand it round to everybody, that we may offer a prayer
to father Jove, and speed our guest upon his way.”
  Pontonous mixed the wine and handed it to every one in turn; the
others each from his own seat made a drink-offering to the blessed
gods that live in heaven, but Ulysses rose and placed the double cup
in the hands of queen Arete.
  “Farewell, queen,” said he, “henceforward and for ever, till age and
death, the common lot of mankind, lay their hands upon you. I now take
my leave; be happy in this house with your children, your people,
and with king Alcinous.”
  As he spoke he crossed the threshold, and Alcinous sent a man to
conduct him to his ship and to the sea shore. Arete also sent some
maid servants with him—one with a clean shirt and cloak, another to
carry his strong-box, and a third with corn and wine. When they got to
the water side the crew took these things and put them on board,
with all the meat and drink; but for Ulysses they spread a rug and a
linen sheet on deck that he might sleep soundly in the stern of the
ship. Then he too went on board and lay down without a word, but the
crew took every man his place and loosed the hawser from the pierced
stone to which it had been bound. Thereon, when they began rowing
out to sea, Ulysses fell into a deep, sweet, and almost deathlike
slumber.
  The ship bounded forward on her way as a four in hand chariot
flies over the course when the horses feel the whip. Her prow curveted
as it were the neck of a stallion, and a great wave of dark blue water
seethed in her wake. She held steadily on her course, and even a
falcon, swiftest of all birds, could not have kept pace with her.
Thus, then, she cut her way through the water. carrying one who was as
cunning as the gods, but who was now sleeping peacefully, forgetful of
all that he had suffered both on the field of battle and by the
waves of the weary sea.
  When the bright star that heralds the approach of dawn began to
show. the ship drew near to land. Now there is in Ithaca a haven of
the old merman Phorcys, which lies between two points that break the
line of the sea and shut the harbour in. These shelter it from the
storms of wind and sea that rage outside, so that, when once within
it, a ship may lie without being even moored. At the head of this
harbour there is a large olive tree, and at no distance a fine
overarching cavern sacred to the nymphs who are called Naiads. There
are mixing-bowls within it and wine-jars of stone, and the bees hive
there. Moreover, there are great looms of stone on which the nymphs
weave their robes of sea purple—very curious to see—and at all times
there is water within it. It has two entrances, one facing North by
which mortals can go down into the cave, while the other comes from
the South and is more mysterious; mortals cannot possibly get in by
it, it is the way taken by the gods.
  Into this harbour, then, they took their ship, for they knew the
place, She had so much way upon her that she ran half her own length
on to the shore; when, however, they had landed, the first thing
they did was to lift Ulysses with his rug and linen sheet out of the
ship, and lay him down upon the sand still fast asleep. Then they took
out the presents which Minerva had persuaded the Phaeacians to give
him when he was setting out on his voyage homewards. They put these
all together by the root of the olive tree, away from the road, for
fear some passer by might come and steal them before Ulysses awoke;
and then they made the best of their way home again.
  But Neptune did not forget the threats with which he had already
threatened Ulysses, so he took counsel with Jove. “Father Jove,”
said he, “I shall no longer be held in any sort of respect among you
gods, if mortals like the Phaeacians, who are my own flesh and
blood, show such small regard for me. I said I would Ulysses get
home when he had suffered sufficiently. I did not say that he should
never get home at all, for I knew you had already nodded your head
about it, and promised that he should do so; but now they have brought
him in a ship fast asleep and have landed him in Ithaca after
loading him with more magnificent presents of bronze, gold, and
raiment than he would ever have brought back from Troy, if he had
had his share of the spoil and got home without misadventure.”
  And Jove answered, “What, O Lord of the Earthquake, are you
talking about? The gods are by no means wanting in respect for you. It
would be monstrous were they to insult one so old and honoured as
you are. As regards mortals, however, if any of them is indulging in
insolence and treating you disrespectfully, it will always rest with
yourself to deal with him as you may think proper, so do just as you
please.”
  “I should have done so at once,” replied Neptune, “if I were not
anxious to avoid anything that might displease you; now, therefore,
I should like to wreck the Phaecian ship as it is returning from its
escort. This will stop them from escorting people in future; and I
should also like to bury their city under a huge mountain.”
  “My good friend,” answered Jove, “I should recommend you at the very
moment when the people from the city are watching the ship on her way,
to turn it into a rock near the land and looking like a ship. This
will astonish everybody, and you can then bury their city under the
mountain.”
  When earth-encircling Neptune heard this he went to Scheria where
the Phaecians live, and stayed there till the ship, which was making
rapid way, had got close-in. Then he went up to it, turned it into
stone, and drove it down with the flat of his hand so as to root it in
the ground. After this he went away.
  The Phaeacians then began talking among themselves, and one would
turn towards his neighbour, saying, “Bless my heart, who is it that
can have rooted the ship in the sea just as she was getting into port?
We could see the whole of her only moment ago.”
  This was how they talked, but they knew nothing about it; and
Alcinous said, “I remember now the old prophecy of my father. He
said that Neptune would be angry with us for taking every one so
safely over the sea, and would one day wreck a Phaeacian ship as it
was returning from an escort, and bury our city under a high mountain.
This was what my old father used to say, and now it is all coming
true. Now therefore let us all do as I say; in the first place we must
leave off giving people escorts when they come here, and in the next
let us sacrifice twelve picked bulls to Neptune that he may have mercy
upon us, and not bury our city under the high mountain.” When the
people heard this they were afraid and got ready the bulls.
  Thus did the chiefs and rulers of the Phaecians to king Neptune,
standing round his altar; and at the same time Ulysses woke up once
more upon his own soil. He had been so long away that he did not
know it again; moreover, Jove’s daughter Minerva had made it a foggy
day, so that people might not know of his having come, and that she
might tell him everything without either his wife or his fellow
citizens and friends recognizing him until he had taken his revenge
upon the wicked suitors. Everything, therefore, seemed quite different
to him—the long straight tracks, the harbours, the precipices, and
the goodly trees, appeared all changed as he started up and looked
upon his native land. So he smote his thighs with the flat of his
hands and cried aloud despairingly.
  “Alas,” he exclaimed, “among what manner of people am I fallen?
Are they savage and uncivilized or hospitable and humane? Where
shall I put all this treasure, and which way shall I go? I wish I
had stayed over there with the Phaeacians; or I could have gone to
some other great chief who would have been good to me and given me
an escort. As it is I do not know where to put my treasure, and I
cannot leave it here for fear somebody else should get hold of it.
In good truth the chiefs and rulers of the Phaeacians have not been
dealing fairly by me, and have left me in the wrong country; they said
they would take me back to Ithaca and they have not done so: may
Jove the protector of suppliants chastise them, for he watches over
everybody and punishes those who do wrong. Still, I suppose I must
count my goods and see if the crew have gone off with any of them.”
  He counted his goodly coppers and cauldrons, his gold and all his
clothes, but there was nothing missing; still he kept grieving about
not being in his own country, and wandered up and down by the shore of
the sounding sea bewailing his hard fate. Then Minerva came up to
him disguised as a young shepherd of delicate and princely mien,
with a good cloak folded double about her shoulders; she had sandals
on her comely feet and held a javelin in her hand. Ulysses was glad
when he saw her, and went straight up to her.
  “My friend,” said he, “you are the first person whom I have met with
in this country; I salute you, therefore, and beg you to be will
disposed towards me. Protect these my goods, and myself too, for I
embrace your knees and pray to you as though you were a god. Tell
me, then, and tell me truly, what land and country is this? Who are
its inhabitants? Am I on an island, or is this the sea board of some
continent?”
  Minerva answered, “Stranger, you must be very simple, or must have
come from somewhere a long way off, not to know what country this
is. It is a very celebrated place, and everybody knows it East and
West. It is rugged and not a good driving country, but it is by no
means a bid island for what there is of it. It grows any quantity of
corn and also wine, for it is watered both by rain and dew; it
breeds cattle also and goats; all kinds of timber grow here, and there
are watering places where the water never runs dry; so, sir, the
name of Ithaca is known even as far as Troy, which I understand to
be a long way off from this Achaean country.”
  Ulysses was glad at finding himself, as Minerva told him, in his own
country, and he began to answer, but he did not speak the truth, and
made up a lying story in the instinctive wiliness of his heart.
  “I heard of Ithaca,” said he, “when I was in Crete beyond the
seas, and now it seems I have reached it with all these treasures. I
have left as much more behind me for my children, but am flying
because I killed Orsilochus son of Idomeneus, the fleetest runner in
Crete. I killed him because he wanted to rob me of the spoils I had
got from Troy with so much trouble and danger both on the field of
battle and by the waves of the weary sea; he said I had not served his
father loyally at Troy as vassal, but had set myself up as an
independent ruler, so I lay in wait for him and with one of my
followers by the road side, and speared him as he was coming into town
from the country. my It was a very dark night and nobody saw us; it
was not known, therefore, that I had killed him, but as soon as I
had done so I went to a ship and besought the owners, who were
Phoenicians, to take me on board and set me in Pylos or in Elis
where the Epeans rule, giving them as much spoil as satisfied them.
They meant no guile, but the wind drove them off their course, and
we sailed on till we came hither by night. It was all we could do to
get inside the harbour, and none of us said a word about supper though
we wanted it badly, but we all went on shore and lay down just as we
were. I was very tired and fell asleep directly, so they took my goods
out of the ship, and placed them beside me where I was lying upon
the sand. Then they sailed away to Sidonia, and I was left here in
great distress of mind.”
  Such was his story, but Minerva smiled and caressed him with her
hand. Then she took the form of a woman, fair, stately, and wise,
“He must be indeed a shifty lying fellow,” said she, “who could
surpass you in all manner of craft even though you had a god for
your antagonist. Dare-devil that you are, full of guile, unwearying in
deceit, can you not drop your tricks and your instinctive falsehood,
even now that you are in your own country again? We will say no
more, however, about this, for we can both of us deceive upon
occasion—you are the most accomplished counsellor and orator among
all mankind, while I for diplomacy and subtlety have no equal among
the gods. Did you not know Jove’s daughter Minerva—me, who have
been ever with you, who kept watch over you in all your troubles,
and who made the Phaeacians take so great a liking to you? And now,
again, I am come here to talk things over with you, and help you to
hide the treasure I made the Phaeacians give you; I want to tell you
about the troubles that await you in your own house; you have got to
face them, but tell no one, neither man nor woman, that you have
come home again. Bear everything, and put up with every man’s
insolence, without a word.”
  And Ulysses answered, “A man, goddess, may know a great deal, but
you are so constantly changing your appearance that when he meets
you it is a hard matter for him to know whether it is you or not. This
much, however, I know exceedingly well; you were very kind to me as
long as we Achaeans were fighting before Troy, but from the day on
which we went on board ship after having sacked the city of Priam, and
heaven dispersed us—from that day, Minerva, I saw no more of you, and
cannot ever remember your coming to my ship to help me in a
difficulty; I had to wander on sick and sorry till the gods
delivered me from evil and I reached the city of the Phaeacians, where
you en

It’s funny how despite different tastes
we all have a taste for music
my life has never felt complete
with a soundtrack. A beat
as a kid I was told not to fidget
told to just sit still
but my person was anything but chill
I have always had a thing for rhythm
I felt it in the way people speak
the way a husband sneaks around
keeping his wife trapped and meak
whether it is weak or strong
I could always hear that drumming song
It started with a rap song I heard
Hi My Name Is by eminem
but then again it had always been with me
it’s the reason time scares me
because in the beating tick of those two drum sticks
I could see the sound of life wasted
and it made me want to get wasted
black out drunk at fatal altitudes
when I was in middle school
we were angry
and disrespectfully spiteful
so we rocked long socks and listened to punk rock
then It was about being a bad guy
a real force not to be reckoned with
so we wore black Tshirts depicting violent scenes
and joined the screaming heavy metal mosh pit
a place to fit for all the kids who didn’t anywhere else
as I got older I put the heavy metal on the shelf
if I’m being honest it was all just a little silly
angsty teens with lofty dreams which they told us
were unattainable so we went out looking for cheap thrills
rather than develop any marketable skills
The first time I felt marketable
it gave me chills
The National in Richmond Virginia
an old theatre
converted into a sanctuary for the sanctimonious masses
to forget everything they learned in their classes
a place where kicked *****
wasn’t always a bad thing
I remember I was there
in the tenth grade
to see the Atmosphere show
because the lead singer - Slug
was my hero
his words enveloped me in a bear hug
which said you’re doing just fine kid
and in that crowd of tattoos and hipsters
and the ghetto kids wearing chips on their shoulders
I was high
but not on drugs
I was high on expressionism and the loftiness of ideas
The men behind the microphone
wearing a costume of stage lighting and swaggering egos
made me feel at home
for the first time in a while
they said things like God Loves Ugly
and Every Day Can’t be the Best Day
and the DJ’s worked the turntables
like a good lover brings their partner to ******
I didn’t know anybody else at the show
but don’t think for a minute that I was alone
we were all connected as brothers by bond and spilled blood
of our heros who were cut short before they could say the things
which we all needed to hear
We respect the story tellers
because it is how we come to terms with tougher aspects of life
and I was flying high on the dreams of kids just like me
saluting the scarred, worn, souls who had made it
who were making the path that we would one day walk
with the cut of their jive and the strength of their talk
***** of the walk
chalked outlines of the end of loneliness
They called us hop heads
and we’d reply
you’re ******* right we are
hip hop didn’t save my life
it just stopped me from taking me
for granted

I'm perfectly imperfect
That's what they always say
I'm crookedly straight
But I'm far from gay
I forever speak my mind
Always and all day
My heart is on my sleeve
But guarded all the same
I'm devilishly innocent
My mind is not so tame
I'm dishonestly truthful
But never take the blame
I'm completely backwards
We can never be the same

To me upwards is downwards
The sky's my only ground
Your life I can still ruin
It is with in my bounds
I'm depressingly happy
There is no middle ground
My version of earth is flat...
Why should it be round?
My earth is a work of art
With colours everywhere
Your world I broke and ripped apart
Just to prove I don't fit there
I tore it up in little bits
I left the pieces without a care
I'm completely backwards
I'm such a major scare


I'm nationally local
You can see me all the time
I can disappear into thin air
Leaving you without a rhyme
For I'm melodically harmonious
No brighter than the dullest shine
I'm incomprehensibly real
And yet so hard to find
Pure white to me is simple black
Race is gone and can't come back
I can prove all that I am
A thing to which you surely lack
I'm disrespectfully respectful
My words are always fact
I'm completely backwards
I'll drive you past insane
Then I'll never bring you back

I'm illegally legal
Like a drug that you can't sell
I'm contrastingly bendable
In this world of my own hell
I'm resistingly irresistible
My secrets you will never tell
I'm obscenely lovable
In this world in which I fell
I landed in this twisted place
A world of expectations
This world I created on my own
For I'm an undertone of exaggeration
Here I've found my only home
In a backwards world of my creation
And all in all I'm here to say
"I'm completely backwards
In every single way"

I play with fire
And I dance with Death
A twirl and a spin and a blade swings recklessly.

"Do you not care about others ", they ask consecutively.
"Do you think before you act", they ask disrespectfully.

My own reality an asylum
My mind makes liberal
My words can change you or me

"Your words are absent " , they'll disagree
"You make no sense", they'll only see

To much to handle like a crushing bridge
Bounds break like broken ribs
Without either things cease to exist
I walked upon a borderline path
I can't decipher , am I  a Psychopath

They were so not interested when the brother was so very available
Lonely even and longing to be needed longing to be loved it
Didn’t seem like it cuz he could be so very surly but desperately longing
To laugh out loud and secretly longing to dance to no music but that which
was in his lover’s heart but they would have had to but didn’t care to
dig under the bravado or be lurking behind the door to his otherwise
empty sanctuary when he locked out the needy and narcissistic and
peeled the ess offa his chest before hanging his all-purpose multi tool belt
on the all-purpose multi tool belt nail and became
merely his naked self to see that what he truly had to offer could
not be built or repaired or paid for or driven or
traded for the promise of some ***** which he would have settled for in
lieu of real companionship cuz that’s all people seem to be about these days and
*** is easy and love is hard and therefore a fella could hardly hope
for something that songs are written about  and hope deferred
is unpretty at  best  and ****** tragic at worst  so imagine
their surprise when one day he walked in with his large workman’s hand wrapped
around a smaller softer hand and he was suddenly not so surly maybe joyful even
and they wondered how they didn’t notice how **** he is and they
asked themselves did he grow two inches cuz he sure seems taller and
they don’t understand when he no longer comes just cuz they call and they find
that for some reason they hate that ***** that he is with and she ain’t so cute
so why is he not noticing how he is now coveted or catching the
obvious and disrespectfully thrown  hint… and
in their selfishness would see him unhappy before seeing him
with her before seeing him not sniffing around them
trying and hoping to be noticed and their arrogance
dictates to them that he is not unavailable… not truly…  that she is just a
passing whim and their ignorance whispers to them that he has forgotten
how not so long ago and for years and years
they were so not interested
…now ain’t that somethin

I grew up in a Muslim country
Where the culture is different;
Dress codes, cuisines, sceneries, and peaceful people,
Different from your local news' bombing news content.

I met different people at my old school, all of which are my friends;
Of different ethnicities, culture, and religion.
Despite our major differences, we treated each other as one;
We built a bond that is not made for oblivion.

I am lucky to grow up experiencing having a Muslim and a Christian for a friend,
I get invited to holidays like Christmas and Ramadan.
I get to see and feel the best of both worlds,
And respect for each religion is the key to living as one.

I wrote this to serve as an eye-opener
That the terrorists that you see on the news are not my Muslim brothers;
For when terror is claimed in Islam's name,
They disrespect the Islamic belief and teachings when they make that claim.

We need to live in a world where people thinks critically—
A world with no woman with a hijab is stared at disrespectfully;
A world where nobody uses Islam as a sign of terror;
A world with no discriminations, just peace and tranquility.

I hope we also learn cultural sensitivity,
For religion differences aren't something to joke about and be tagged with petty comedy.
Respect is what we need to have a peaceful community,
And if we really want to live in a world free from disquieting thoughts and emotions,
Let this all start with you and me.

F*k, I’m sorry…so sorry
I should’ve known the risks of being your friend.

You give, You take.
What’s yours is yours
And what’s mine is yours.
Thank you for letting me know why I’m your friend,
Why I even talk to you.
I don’t regret any decisions I’ve made because that’s what being a teenager who ages too fast does to you.
EVERYTHING AFFECTS YOU
like the world would crumble if a feather touched you.

You seek joy and blame and hurt and love and s*x like
They’re all shoved into one neatly wrapped present with a bow tie on it, including a note from me and many others saying:
“Enjoy life, love, destroy it while it lasts”

I can’t say anything around without that upper lip of yours where you’re more hurt than any of us.

I forgive you, so terribly much.

But it would all mean nothing if you couldn't forgive me for being so disrespectfully drunk.

nothing is more inappropriate
or unjust
of a poem written,
than not giving it
an appropriate title
but rather disrespectfully,
leaving it with out one.

I'm sorry for being me
I thought we connect idealistically
I thought you will act differently ,
But apparently,
You don't see what I see.

I'm sorry for letting you be,
To not be able see who you are to me
To think that I will act cowardly,
And to see me as ordinary.

All I am looking for is tranquility,
Unfortunately,
You are trying to achieve spiritually,
But let me tell you blatantly,
You aren't that different from me.

You told me,
You need the sense of security,
And the sense of certainty,
But my darling,
You aren't wiling to dive deeply.

Tying a knot does not provide security,
Nor does it ensure certainty,
I failed as a lover,
Because you didn't realize,
what's reality.

If all I am looking for is just to be *****,
I won't come up with all the activity,
I won't be able to make you cry softly,
Or even to share my thoughts to you
genuinely.

The fact that you felt guilty,
To love comfortably,
Believe me,
That hurts me.

So here I am telling you directly,
I couldn't be with you in this journey,
Cause it's a pain for me to see,
You suffer and torture yourself mentally.

I will never be who you want me to be,
Because we were all designed differently,
You said I treated you disrespectfully,
Without realizing my insecurity.

I'll leave for now so that you see,
I am not acting contradictorily,
I am just being me.


But please,
blame it on me.

Will you walk this way
Will you leave open the door
Will you be more than just the reasons
that you implore

When you look inside
When will you separate the appriations
When will you part and devide
all the suppositions

"I am this today
  I am that tomorrow
  I am anything as long
  as it doesn't cause me sorrow"

"I am as fickle as the sun
  I am sunshine , sometimes storm
  I am the moon's false reflection
  that falls upon the praise that you adorn"

So who is it that walks through the door
So whose mask will you wear today
So who will fall for your insidious lies
that you so disrespectfully diplay

What a way !

What a strong grip that you've managed to keep so long
How does it still feel in this moment?
Realize now that the grip was too strong
It's gone too numb to feel if it still constricts
Emboldened by the lies that cross the threshold of those lips

You get what I give and I give you what I deserved
You reap what I sow, but I know what you think I don't
Believe me, you know you've deceived me

You seem baffled as I start to roam away from your reach
Wondering where went the chain you've anchored
What of the lessons you've attempted to teach
To keep me guilted, controlled and manipulated
So you can seek all you want from the others you've lied to

You take what I give but I get what you deserved
I've reaped what you sow and you know that I don't
Believe you, I know you've deceived me

So come clean to me
Bare all your guilt
Set me free
You've already abandoned me

Still you don't resist
To continue so disrespectfully
You keep your secrets disappearing
So what is it that you still want from me?

So come clean to me (come clean, come clean)
Bare all your guilt (what you hide from me)
Set me free (your cage no longer fits)
You've already abandoned me

So why should I stay by you?

©July 2024 Neal Emanuelson

To everyone born to this world with nothing
No social code, allowed to risk it all with no bluffing
While others get bored being handed their every desire
I spent my childhood days building dirt empires
Dreaming of the molds I was not cut out of
When I'd sit down with fellow folks talking of my aspirations
Most just laughed, brushed me off like I had no chance
So I fueled my fire with life's frustrations
My life works may never something tangible
But if you read every chapter of me, your hands would overflow

This world doesn't seem to understand my twisting mind
But at least I never looked at my dining room,
Thinking it's a great place to hang a clothes line
I'm taking jabs at my past but never dwell in that hollow home
Past these child eyes how much of me do you really know
If you were me, if you had to be, disrespectfully  some say they'd **** themselves
Take that negativity and raise myself onto a higher shelf

I find my best inspiration in music and staring out at stars
one of my favorite pieces I ever wrote was just about passing cars
I'm scared that people are being cookie cut all the same
In a Stepford  manner more messed up than Gerald's  game
They hand you charts and define you in a statistic
Like they already threw you the ball but you missed it
I'm here to breath life into a deflated man's scene
Don't let these demons destroy your darkest dreams
Spark a light onto who you want to be
In a sea of fish, be the one swimming up stream

Protest WWW..Global
Our Cries World wide..
From the USA even to the Mother lands..Africa..
Cries reaches US.
Paris France. Vancouver Canada, Germany
Visions and dreams have shown my stove is burning..
I often wondered what it could mean.
There's a fire in my kitchen, the center of where I live.
Theres a burning. In the heart of the land..
The place that feed my family.. food to survive..
As I look around my land now right in my homeland. There's fires burning..
In the hearts of man. From Injustices in the land. The killing OF another Now George Floyd Openly. Strangely for the world to see.
Now cities are burning, grenades are throwing, rubber bullets are shooting..
At us in our pains. They are arresting any and every one of us. Why..
Because we are Bleeding, so they arrest us. because we don't wanna go home.
Suffer in silence unseen. Hurt and die in our sorrow.. Obey curfews.. Used as tools to control.. what needs to be seen.
Our rights to be heard, our rights to walk it out, shout it out, All day and night with each other.
See us we want to protest, stop shooting your rubber bullets, because we don't wanna hide behind closed doors. Between 7 and 11..

We are risking Our Lives for this cause.. Risking Our health for Liberty.. Equality. Marching until our feet are bruised.
For the Rights to be free, Our Lives Matter, Our Rights matter, Our Equality Matters.
Our Humanity Matters, Stop Killing Us, Trying to Silence us.. STOP And.. Prosecute The guilty for abusing Us.
Overthrow The Powers in Authority That rule with cruelty to humanity. Especially to People like me. I want the rights to Express myself Openly, Our tears for the world to see. I want all people to have liberty.
In Our Pains why must you treat us so roughly, so disrespectfully. rubber bullets, gas grenades, smokes and flares, We people are already wounded, already feeling down, already fed up, already exhausted, already disrespected already getting killed.. You won't lift us up give us a  caring hand.. Us against those racist against us.. Way Over fed Up.
We are Thanking every color in America and world wide.. that Protest On Our side. Thank You.
Willing to fight and be heard and demand for changes for our kind, and all of mankind.
That's been denied..
Justice for US.

Why do we allow our women to be disrespectfully depicted
Falsely in forms of harmful fiction.
Make them hate themselves with malicious media,
I think your beautiful forget what their feeding ya.
It doesn’t matter what I think, you need to believe it too.
What I gotta do for you to believe in you?
Why do we let our women get destroyed for the sake of “art”
Do the men hate the women because of one that broke their heart?
Where does the root of the problem start?
How can we fix it?
We can’t do it by fixing our diction.
Solely.
I mean that can’t be the only thing we do.
Change our actions and we may find the treatment.
Indeed this is something I believe in.

Sitting cross-legged at your site,
dreadfully admiring the grass clumps
growing disrespectfully over your plot,
as if time forgot to stop for you.
Your neighbors are encroaching closer,
becoming a sea of graves,
You’re blending in with the rest.
Crickets and birds keep chirping
while the excavator cuts through
my thoughts digging new plots.
Time and life just keep progressing
But without you, I’ve stopped.

Sitting at the table drinking coffee
My small legs dangling off the chair
I coil my fingers through my hair
Watching the words of envy stare
My mother, screaming and stomping on the floor above me, arguing
Asking my Auntie “What was going on? Why was everyone yelling?”
“Grown folks business,” was always her reply, her red ruddy eyes blinking with knowledge and pain
It was never a phrase I ever got,
Never one I could understand or stand to see
It always angered me I was treated disrespectfully, without even knowing
Age, it was a number that mattered with how wise one was to be
It was a number that didn’t ever matter to me
But, it mattered to everyone around me

And the jinx of it now is, I’m sitting here, staring at the smooth polished wood that contains the skin you used to exist in
Thinking of the things you, and everyone else, tried to hide from me
And sometimes, I think of any adult that says that to a child as liars, trying to delay the inevitable manner of things
Delays makes things harder and distrusting, Auntie

Wouldn’t ice make the truth slippery?

I try to get in her head
Tell her she's ok
There were so many doubts...
Hair, waiste, skin, feet, eye, voice
All of it. None of it.
Her mother was no where
She was there, but not
Where she was needed.
She needed someone herself,
So it's easy to forgive...
Forgetting is too, when you're genuine.

Boys made her feel better.
Special, loved, noticed. Man,
I'm sad for her now.
Knowing what I know now,
Poor child.
The break down of the tribe.
No women to guide this young
Woman. Alone, most days. Quite
Naturally, unless anxiety set in.
Or I just really like you.

So I struggle to write about
Me.
Seems she couldn't be
If those days weren't seen.
I embrace what I've witnessed.
There's a message back there
I missed it . I trust her. She's guiding me
With intention.

So let's see...

Wicked dreams.
Thoughts of screaming.
Being killed in my sleep. Throat ripped
Open. Bleed in my dreams.
Being chased, watched, schemed.
Perhaps there's something here

Fear
How firm is it's grasp
Fear to be me...

I was scared to go home most days.
Hated summer vacation after a few weeks.
Longed for Mondays.
To be back in a place
I felt safe. School.
How insane. But true.

I'd look round the corner,
Hoping the lot was empty of red,
Maybe even he was dead.
He never died. He lied. They did.
So disrespectfully.
And to a kid?
Could have just kept some things
Private... Anyways,

It's the way it was.
I remember the Simpsons
More than feeling love.
Mom always seemed distant.
As I am now.
Best advice ! Go out and get it out!
Come back clean and focused
And ready to heal
The next.
They are here now watching,
Preparing poems of the future.
Alright let's get it all out...

time ticks by
time ticks by
time ticks and tacks until...

i don't recognize myself anymore.
twenty two, and so blue-
reminiscing upon my youth
wishing time would

tick and tack and turn backwards.

a year and a half spent tangled in bed sheets
a plethora of friendships flushed down the drain
it becomes so clear

that, disrespectfully,
life will go on,
with or without you,
ticking, tacking,
twisting, twirling,
waxing, waning,
tick tick ticking

away.

A flawed character/personality trait that makes a man (usually), who is not happy with himself, lie about his pathetic life to cover his failures. He will “invent” people, situations or things to boost his image. He will reiterate his numerous “successes” to look superior. If he has a girlfriend he will disrespectfully read her diary, monitor her conversations or spy on her to see if she is cheating. If he is in public with his woman, he gets jealous when a guy looks at her (which is actually a compliment) because he is threatened by another man and knows deep down that he isn’t worthy of her. He feels as though his sense of self-worth (or lack of it) is found in the woman in his life because he must have a woman and *** to be happy. He will also talk bad about others to make himself feel better.

Insecure people are extremely needy, lonely, miserable losers who need to get a life.