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Adam Aug 2014
We are each born
A box full of pieces
But as the years pass
We are faultily rearranged
Jammed into wrong spaces
Lost under the couch
And as the years pass
We look less of what we were
And now more of who we are

Luckily, unlike puzzles
Our pieces can be replaced
Our cut outs can be reshaped
And even if we are misplaced
Someone will put you back together
Everyone changes, however we don't fade, even feeling nonexistent. We are probably just hiding in the couch.
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.

First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.

The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man's dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.

A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and ***** seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!

With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
   Freedom.

Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.

Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.

A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
        ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
        ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
        WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
        AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
        AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
        NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
        TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
        WITHOUT THAT OTHER'S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
        BETTER TO DIE FREE
        THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.

With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
"Or if it would," thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
   Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
    Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, ****** and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.

America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
"You are a man. Together we are building our land."

America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don't be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don't be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
        ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
        NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
        TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
        WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
        BETTER DIE FREE,
        THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
   FREEDOM!
     BROTHERHOOD!
         DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!

A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
     Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
     KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!
“Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more!
Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore!
And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me,
I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly
That I might eat again, and met thy sneers
With deprecations, and thy blows with tears,—
Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away,
As if spent passion were a holiday!
And now I go.  Nor threat, nor easy vow
Of tardy kindness can avail thee now
With me, whence fear and faith alike are flown;
Lonely I came, and I depart alone,
And know not where nor unto whom I go;
But that thou canst not follow me I know.”

Thus I to Life, and ceased; but through my brain
My thought ran still, until I spake again:

“Ah, but I go not as I came,—no trace
Is mine to bear away of that old grace
I brought!  I have been heated in thy fires,
Bent by thy hands, fashioned to thy desires,
Thy mark is on me!  I am not the same
Nor ever more shall be, as when I came.
Ashes am I of all that once I seemed.
In me all’s sunk that leapt, and all that dreamed
Is wakeful for alarm,—oh, shame to thee,
For the ill change that thou hast wrought in me,
Who laugh no more nor lift my throat to sing!
Ah, Life, I would have been a pleasant thing
To have about the house when I was grown
If thou hadst left my little joys alone!
I asked of thee no favor save this one:
That thou wouldst leave me playing in the sun!
And this thou didst deny, calling my name
Insistently, until I rose and came.
I saw the sun no more.—It were not well
So long on these unpleasant thoughts to dwell,
Need I arise to-morrow and renew
Again my hated tasks, but I am through
With all things save my thoughts and this one night,
So that in truth I seem already quite
Free and remote from thee,—I feel no haste
And no reluctance to depart; I taste
Merely, with thoughtful mien, an unknown draught,
That in a little while I shall have quaffed.”

Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled,
Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filed
Before me one by one till once again
I set new words unto an old refrain:

“Treasures thou hast that never have been mine!
Warm lights in many a secret chamber shine
Of thy gaunt house, and gusts of song have blown
Like blossoms out to me that sat alone!
And I have waited well for thee to show
If any share were mine,—and now I go!
Nothing I leave, and if I naught attain
I shall but come into mine own again!”
Thus I to Life, and ceased, and spake no more,
But turning, straightway, sought a certain door
In the rear wall.  Heavy it was, and low
And dark,—a way by which none e’er would go
That other exit had, and never knock
Was heard thereat,—bearing a curious lock
Some chance had shown me fashioned faultily,
Whereof Life held content the useless key,
And great coarse hinges, thick and rough with rust,
Whose sudden voice across a silence must,
I knew, be harsh and horrible to hear,—
A strange door, ugly like a dwarf.—So near
I came I felt upon my feet the chill
Of acid wind creeping across the sill.
So stood longtime, till over me at last
Came weariness, and all things other passed
To make it room; the still night drifted deep
Like snow about me, and I longed for sleep.

But, suddenly, marking the morning hour,
Bayed the deep-throated bell within the tower!
Startled, I raised my head,—and with a shout
Laid hold upon the latch,—and was without.

                     *

Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road,
Leading me back unto my old abode,
My father’s house!  There in the night I came,
And found them feasting, and all things the same
As they had been before.  A splendour hung
Upon the walls, and such sweet songs were sung
As, echoing out of very long ago,
Had called me from the house of Life, I know.
So fair their raiment shone I looked in shame
On the unlovely garb in which I came;
Then straightway at my hesitancy mocked:
“It is my father’s house!” I said and knocked;
And the door opened.  To the shining crowd
Tattered and dark I entered, like a cloud,
Seeing no face but his; to him I crept,
And “Father!” I cried, and clasped his knees, and wept.
Ah, days of joy that followed!  All alone
I wandered through the house.  My own, my own,
My own to touch, my own to taste and smell,
All I had lacked so long and loved so well!
None shook me out of sleep, nor hushed my song,
Nor called me in from the sunlight all day long.

I know not when the wonder came to me
Of what my father’s business might be,
And whither fared and on what errands bent
The tall and gracious messengers he sent.
Yet one day with no song from dawn till night
Wondering, I sat, and watched them out of sight.
And the next day I called; and on the third
Asked them if I might go,—but no one heard.
Then, sick with longing, I arose at last
And went unto my father,—in that vast
Chamber wherein he for so many years
Has sat, surrounded by his charts and spheres.
“Father,” I said, “Father, I cannot play
The harp that thou didst give me, and all day
I sit in idleness, while to and fro
About me thy serene, grave servants go;
And I am weary of my lonely ease.
Better a perilous journey overseas
Away from thee, than this, the life I lead,
To sit all day in the sunshine like a ****
That grows to naught,—I love thee more than they
Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.
Father, I beg of thee a little task
To dignify my days,—’tis all I ask
Forever, but forever, this denied,
I perish.”
          “Child,” my father’s voice replied,
“All things thy fancy hath desired of me
Thou hast received.  I have prepared for thee
Within my house a spacious chamber, where
Are delicate things to handle and to wear,
And all these things are thine.  Dost thou love song?
My minstrels shall attend thee all day long.
Or sigh for flowers?  My fairest gardens stand
Open as fields to thee on every hand.
And all thy days this word shall hold the same:
No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name.
But as for tasks—” he smiled, and shook his head;
“Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by”, he said.
Andrew Guzaldo c Oct 2018
“I believe I’m gratified to have loved her,
If not where would my heart have been,
My eyes were radiated by this naiad,
Regalia she has given will last ever ageless,

To have been near her held her hand,
Brushed my fingers through her hair,
Listened to her incentive ways she had,
Given to me before she had gone faultily,

Rivers flow as wind carry life’s ballad inlet,
Leading me deep into the paradise I longed for,
Overwhelming protecting me from world afar,
Strong caring is what keeps our souls as one,

It’s an obsession the way we let ardor consume us,
In her eyes I found new visions have been revealed,  
As the sea forgets in its furore lading aboard,
No rest from travels it is my libation for memoir,

World of the deep fell into darkness of nets,
I would have liked my naiad by my side,
I imagine that my heart palpitating sadness,
If I were to pique the naiad would it make all well,
I shall never KNOW”
By Andrew Guzaldo 10/07/2018 ©
By Andrew Guzaldo 10/07/2018 ©       #Poem#128
Ata Oct 2014
To bless
every mistake
it adores my content thought
faultily ?

To apply
for perfection
it forces me to ponder
what for?
Ignatius Hosiana Jan 2017
The funny thing is I was prepared and willing... I was ready to remove the obstacles on the path to my heart,
to light a torch through the tunnels so that you know the directions to take in the labyrinth of my grim personality
characterized by culverts of mood swings and the stinking sewage of my tantrums... I was ready to rid myself of the dust of my haunting past
and stop sneezing good intentions like yours away, I was ready to hold your hand
and match along with you to a future that keeps getting brighter every other day.
I was prepared to cut open my soul and let you put the candle of affection inside so that you drive out the darkness of cynicism that's plagued me for years,
I was ready to make you the handkerchief that finally dries my invisible tears...
The uplifting embrace that finally brings my silent sobs to an end, I was willing to make you more than a friend
by ripping away the high fences of my diffidence and letting you into my sanctuary,
my innocuous zone so that you would drive away the compulsion I have for desolation...
I was even open to letting you help me gather the pieces clattered all over the floor of my reality
that have eluded me for what seems like epochs, I was willing to overlook your flaws as I thought they were faultily perfect
and you earned a chance to flip the pages and let me read the chapters beneath rather than judge you by your cover,
I was eager to be an open book, to open my mind and let you be the radar, that guides the wreck of my life back to the shores of romance
Whose flame for the fuel in my soul was promising to burn and never die out and even if I’d run out of fuel,
I was willing to seek help from the glow of the sun to light our way if the flame ever died out...
I was keen to whither the storms if it wasn’t a happily ever after, to feel our way through dark times
To never admit defeat till time when the moonlight of joy crept through the alleys of our hearts.
More than before, I was ready to let you be the blanket that warms the winter in my soul into spring
and that cools the summer of confusion in my mind into autumn where the leaves of loneliness would fall
greener optimism was already budded awaiting the despair to fall,
I was willing to let you explore deeper than anyone had ever been in a very long time, close to the first cut
Until you chose to ruin it all…and made me shut my doors even tighter with your guns loaded with bullets of empty promises
albeit I cautioned you against promising anything because in my experience it was the expectations that hurt
You’ve made me build even bigger walls, locking out even the little warmth I was starting to gather…
You’ve made me put bigger barriers on the boulevard to my heart and turned it into a boulevard of broken dreams
and by doing so, you’ve locked me away forever, and lost the keys yet am grateful
to you for showing me that the world outside the cocoon is still what it used to be before my hibernation
a world where butterflies cannot survive for even the roses have Datura within their sweet nectar…
Am grateful you didn’t wait for me to fly so high before severing my wings, so grateful you’ve confirmed to me
that even the most splintered of fragile hearts can still be broken…I was saving forever for you, thank you for not letting me waste it all.
transmitted ****** talks
(partially presented pablum pertaining
     particularly - president ***** (PAC -
     ******* action *** mitt tee)  
     portfolio ******* philandering)

baneful boorish boastful bullheaded
     Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks.
conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly
     cavorts, capitulating, claiming,
     championing crying chauvinistic
     concupiscence, ****** cupidity caul
     king crooked cowboy cakewalks.

Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly,
     demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly,
     devilishly, divinely dumbfounded,
     duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks.
eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating,
     excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk.

"fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant
     fool, frightful.
gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating
     gerrymandering.

harboring hectoring heinously hellishly
     hideously horrendously horrible hulk.
ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest
     immoral impetuous, impishly impudent,

     incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous,
     iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible
     irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix ******* izards.
jowly ******* jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking
     jumping ****, jilting jinn.

knowingly keeping kryptonite, ***** Kardashian
     kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty,
     kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps,
     kowtowing ku klux **** kinsfolk.

legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated,
     lambasted, languished lost lively lust,
     limped, legal levity limited.

menfolk made macho mission. many moons
     monthly mandate marked maybe mars,
     mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified
modus mystifying maze moonwalk.

— The End —