My razor is so powerful

Always fixing me when I'm broke

From cutting  lines in my arm

To cutting lines of coke



My razor is my weapon

Only used to defeat myself

And I can't tell if my tool is good or bad

Since I'm not hurting/"fixing" anyone else

am i too much for you?
is it that fact i have a loose *****, or two, or three
did i really need to see you through for every day you
touched me, looked me in the eye, said the fire will never die
but it did

and that hoodie fills a space between two legs,
square pegs into round holes, binge eating until you
hurt your throat
but you still devote yourself to being
skinny

and that word has plagued me for so long, like a song, like a call, and now i need to know, before i fall, am i skinny enough to be loved? is my collarbone every going to be a wishing well, will i burn in hell for the simple sin of being fat?

but in reality, the only real causality was myself
i force fed myself discipline, hoped someone
would listen, but they never did

even the shrinks said i was crazy
and that i was lazy for not going out, excising until
my skin split and a beautiful butterfly emerged
then i'd surge into battle like a goddess

but when your thighs are thick and you aren't modest,
and when you wear lipstick too thick like a woman
with double Ds and an ache between her knees
you know that if you were skinny, you'd never have
these problems, and if you did
you'd know how to solve them
to be skinny
is to be graceful

even in suicidal rages
that flip through pages and pages of stories before they rip my own
from existence
need to be kept under control and kept at a distance like
a tiger that has the taste for human flesh

but now i know i'm the best, because i have a good ****,
long legs and a pretty face
but i'm too hard to replace in this overpriced world
where girls are told to starve themselves

to a neutral, non-pear shape
until their ******* are the tip of an hourglass
their waists are too thin to last
and their eyes are longing for even the tiniest indulgence
avoiding food and any substance
that would jeopardize
skinny

but then i realized
if skinny was so important
then why did all those who were it
probably also were just a little bit away from going insane
and we were in the same boat, staying afloat together
on the ocean of
skinny

so i wrote this poem
for every single girl or woman
who needed a book or a booking
to make them feel beautiful, and by beautiful i mean
skinny

but beautiful can be skinny,
but it can also be thighs like tree trunks,
arms like rivers
and a body that delivers nothing but happiness to that of it's owner

and my body is not some loaner car you
can trash and get away with
there will be fines,
for i am fine,

but in those times, where
nothing was ever promised to me
i started to see

beautiful could mean
staying up to take care of your kids,
single-mothering and being glad your husband
got rid of himself before you could, because
you can do a much better job without the chain-smoke
and you stay woke
forever
because skinny is a construct

or it could mean
studying in waters of student loans,
feeling alone as the only ******* campus
but working hard to become a lawyer or a doctor,
she will always be her mother's daughter

i'd say words stronger than this,
but there are children here,
but ***** skinny!
i am beautiful,
you are beautiful
and by beautiful
i mean anything you want it to mean.

Everything feels like nothing, and nothing starts to feel like everything.

Everyday. Everyday as I wake up,

Nothing ever beats the feeling of inadequacy.

Inadequacy to do good
Inadequacy as a daughter
Inadequacy as a student
Inadequacy as a person
Inadequacy in feeling good within my own body
Inadequacy from feeling good about myself.

Everyday feels like an endless loop, you best believe my misery hunts me.

But what is inadequacy?

Is it scarcity? Deficiency? Insufficiency? A lack thereof?

Is it this mindless blob, formless and dark or a mangled form of flesh, eating away at you and your insecurities?

Like a virus, it pins you, goes deep inside you and there is never enough antibiotic for you...

This inadequacy keeps me up at ungodly hours where the sun howls and moon chirps, the clouds look at us, feigning interest, idly looking but never interacting.

This inadequacy lulls me in irregular fever dreams where comfort lies in solitude and loneliness,
where the people that surround you, cover their ears, bites their cheek, looks forwards, smiles faintly, but never tries to understanding.

My heart wails for the smallest of things. Nothing, nothing becomes everything.

My successes make me feel less, still. Everything, everything becomes nothing.

I am this inadequate thing, floating around, never seeming to be enough.

Inadequate. Because i could not protect myself from those who touch my skin like its free real estate, those clammy hands holding me in a state
A state of frenzy that never seems to end

Inadequate. That no matter what I do, my past will forever haunt me and define the being I am now that no matter how much I change, and try and try and try to do good, it will never be
enough.

And those same voices, those same people, they say they scream they tell me,
“You should have told me.”
“You should have fought back.”
“You are a waste of time.”
“You are dumb.”
“You are nothing.”
“You waste your talents for something as this,”

And those same people, let go of words
That back then would have meant nothing
But now it seems to be everything
It becomes my identity
It becomes my oxygen
It becomes the blood that circulates in my body
It becomes the endorphins in my brain

Nothing becomes everything. And everything that I’ve tried to change, worked hard to achieve, tried to mend, was sorry for, starts to become nothing.



But I am tired of feeling like nothing. That everything I do is always inadequate. That it is some form of scarcity, deficiency, insufficiency, a lack thereof.

These mindless blobs, or mangled forms of flesh,

Like a virus, it pins me, goes deep inside me and there is never enough antibiotic for me...

Because instead of listening, to understand, to empathize, they listen so they can jeopardize...
Whatever love is left that I could give to myself,
Without a shred of doubt,
In a warm, bright embrace for myself, in a corner slouched.



So, I ask these voices, who are only here to remind how inadequate I am:
How do I fight back?
How do I be good enough?
How do I become less dumb?
How do I make nothing stay as nothing? And appreciate everything as everything?

Because day by day, this inadequacy I feel, gets really tiring.

My walls will cave in (just like placards stacked up horizontally fall back with the wind) along with every wave of anxiety-
Right then, I will fall short of words, or rather lose the intelligence of speaking-
Goosebumps, butterflies, shivers and my heart dipping into the cold Pacific won't just be defense mechanisms.
My heart will appear to jolt awake and then dead repeatedly by the society I put myself in;
I will feel electricity running around in my veins, often sparking out of my eyes as the salty tears that trigger short circuits
The ones they say could be caused by the heat-
Indeed- but it's also the cold, the wind, rain and the snow
Words like unknown, unforeseen and anonymous manifesting and getting under my skin- make my jaws quiver and heart dip.

Often my gut nudges me to stand and to speak and to, for once, not fear an omen before I deliver a speech,
But when I speak, though my mouth moves to enunciate what I remembered from the paper,
And as I attempt to collect and reflect my confidence through my features,
My fingers tremble as I try to fit them into my fists behind my back-
These legs shiver behind the pedestal, hidden under slacks.
For people think these mere trifles shouldn't ******* the silhouette that I bear,
Fear of the unknown? Don't be scared, scared!
My nerve ends nervously make my fingers dance as I attempt to provide them a temporary occupation-
'Cross your fingers, close your fists,
Pretend to text, you're better than this.'

So dear me, oh dear me I am sorry-
I am sorry for constantly holding you back;
Sorry for all the chances I did not let you take, all because
I sometimes tend to diverge my faults out as through a prism,
And have always been someone who can never jeopardize her pursuit for perfection.

Sorry, for the seeds of my anxiety have given birth to the roots of my skepticism-
For I paint doubt over every pretty scenery you etch in my mind,
My inhibitions and myself, thinking things over, rewind, rewind.

If I were Rapunzel my anxiety would be the tower that holds me encapsulated- a hostage;
With no demands whatsoever, only a plain, ruthless, endless need to cause damage.

Sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
Root from their heart and branch out in the skies…
Their innocent souls and deceptive eyes…
Their polished shoes and branded ties…

In the beginning they seek your attention…
The next desire is your affection…
By recital of their past and rejection…
Either from them or from other direction…

“Don’t sympathies sweetheart, I am a strong man… Okay”…
“My heart comes free with this ring and bouquet”…
“Say yes, my love, we’ll plan a holiday”…
“Let’s go shopping for your lingerie”…

The candles are lit and the dinner is served…
The charm and chivalry is observed…
His scent and accent leaves you unnerved…
He is definitely the prince you thought you deserved…

Ah! And you fall in the trap and love as well…
Dreaming of him and his tempting propel…
You talk of him and his stories you tell…
Of the vamps he dated and your own love spell …

He has your trust and you are happy high…
His kisses and touch you can’t deny…
“He loves me so much” you amplify…
You light his nights like a firefly…

Now when you feel the bygones are supplanted…
The road gets a little slanted…
When you are more often taken for granted…
His fluctuations show the doldrums are planted…

You inspect the change and the causes aligned…
And come across the love texts enshrined…
You feel shattered and maligned…
The way you are portrayed and opined…

You demotion as ex is celebrated with a raised toast…
With his new flame and he playing host…
You embrace your strength with care utmost…
His vows and love , haunting you like ghosts…

You want to cry till you paralyze…
Blaming thyself for this jeopardize…
The arduous task to analyze, summarize and self sterilize…
From these sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…

~Kathaa Kirti

Double glazed prisons
that suffocate us in
Stopping air
dainty pure
saturating chakras
and healing pores
Skewed panes
Isolate and whisper
Lies
keeping us inside
to jeopardize
All destiny
Meant to thrive.
Glass severing
our connection
to the quaint outside
Leaving Nature,
Our spirit guide,
meekly to subside
when seen
through this lens
of poisoned eyes.

I've come to terms,
That I am going to lose you no matter what.
Either to your hometown,
Or the hometown hero himself.

Yet I will mourn not,
For if this is in your best interest,
So be it.

I feel the blood,
Dripping from the corners of my mouth,
From biting my tongue,
To replace these inquisitions.

Why?
Why? Why? Why?

Such a blissful entity, you are.
A pure blessing to everyone you touch.
Is it possible for Angels to suffer tribulations?
I guess it appears so.

Why would you jeopardize,
The single life I hold dear to me.
Why are you so miserable?

I blame myself.
Not only as partially,
The source of your pain,
But also for not acting sooner.
For making you miss that test.

I've seen your self-destructive streak.
I've seen your cynical nature.
Yet I said nothing.
Did nothing.

And now it's too late.
I can't save you from this.
Not even if you wanted me to.

O how I wish that weren't so.
How I wish I could accompany you,
In the week to come,
But you must face this alone.

How could you be so selfish?!
Yet is it selfish of me,
To deem your actions selfish?
For it is of my own selfish desires,
That your life cannot be diminished.

The illusion

Peace and safety cherished but to allow awareness to go out of style is a formula for disaster
Preparedness and meticulous planning is the guard that should be ever vigilant at each of our homes

Who thinks in terms of a lion in America naturally no spiritually yes the devil goes about as a lion to see
Whom he may devour unless the family is unable and in extreme circumstances every home has

Different insurance policies to protect and assure a fulfilled life and a safe one but ask how is the
Spiritual side that has far greater implications and dangers that are eternal deaths immeasurable

Costs should be the utmost concern to neglect is to jeopardize not only your family but the whole nation
Is set adrift in a world where dangers can only be truly computed by God himself the unseen does

Matter and holds the greatest costs that are payable in human life then human souls the devil has got
People raging with madness and through them destruction will continue to mount the only antidote is

Praying men and women and God will be our protection they won’t walk freely into our homeland and
Destroy our people and our cities that is their next fiend driven goal

Saturday April 17

You are my Lode Star

in the morning dawning light
you are always there
you are my lode star
my sunshine, my moonshine
the love of my life, my wife
with your endless love
I will face the evil corrupted world
even walk through the shadow of death
as long as you by my side
I will fear no evil for you are with me
and I will love you
until death takes me
from your your loving embrace


another Nigerian spam found poem

the Nigerians keep sending me
and millions of others
delightedly creative spam messages
this is one of the nicer ones
I have received

Enjoy
but don’t send her any money!!!!!

Good day Child of God,

Calvary Greetings
in the name of the LORD Almighty
and Our LORD JESUS CHRIST
the giver of every good thing.

Good day and compliments of the seasons,
i know this letter
will definitely come to you
as a huge surprise,

I humbly
ask you to give me
your attention
and hear me,

i am writing this mail
to you
with heavy sorrow
in my heart,


but I implore you
to take the time
to go through it  carefully
as the decision you make


will go off a long way
to determine
my future
and continued existence.

I am Mrs. Esther Heidi
aging widow of 61 years old
suffering from long time illness.

I have some funds
I inherited from my late husband
, the sum of ($17 Million Dollars) a

And I needed a very honest
and God fearing  
who can withdraw this money
then use the funds for Charity works

I WISH TO GIVE THIS FUNDS
TO YOU FOR CHARITY WORKS.
I found your email address
from the internet

after honest prayers  
to the LORD
to bring me a helper

and i decided to contact you
if you may be willing
and interested to handle
these trust funds in good faith
before anything happens to me.

I accept this decision
because I do not have any child
who will inherit this money
after I die.

I want your urgent reply
to me so that I will give you
the deposit receipt
which the bank issued to me
as next of kin
for immediate transfer of the money

to your account in your country,
to start the good work of God,
I want you to use the 30/percent
of the total amount to help
yourself in doing the project.

I am desperately
in keen need of assistance
and I have summoned
up courage to contact you

for this task,
you must not fail me
and the millions of the poor people
in our todays WORLD.

This is no stolen money
and there are no dangers involved,
100% RISK FREE
with full legal proof.


Please if you would be able
to use the funds for the Charity
(Note: I would use the money
to invest in the Church of Jake)

I want you to
take 30 percent of the total money
for your personal use
while 70% of the money
will go to charity.

I will appreciate your utmost confidentiality
and trust in this matter to accomplish
my heart desire, as I don't want anything
that will jeopardize my last wish.

Please kindly
respond for further details.

Thanks and God bless you,

Regards

Mrs. Esther Heidi

comment: the sad reality
is that 10 percent
of people fall for these scams
and loose lots of money

whole towns in Nigeria
exist to exploit the world
they call themselves
the 404 army

if it is too good to be true
it is probably not true

end comment


Last Day of America

the last day of America
was the day we last voted
the last election we ever had

for on that day
a month before
the corona virus re-emerged

as the great re-opening
of the US economy
failed to stop the relentless spread
of the virus from hell

causing panic and mass confusion
fear kept Americans home

and Donald Trump
was re-elected

because his voters
believed that God
had told them to vote
for their new found king

the newly energized President Trump
declared a national emergency
martial law
and suspension of the constitution

Promising to restore democracy
when the time was right

he promised his followers
that he would restore Christian values
renaming the United States
the Christian States of America

on that date
we met our fate

Christian fascism
was here to stay
on the last day
of American

writers digest prompt - last blank




the Conqueror Worm Corona Sonnet

Lo, t’s a galla night
within the lonesome later years
when around the world
the dreaded corona virus showed its might
spending fear to those in their later years
that it might take them in the night
that before the sun came up
their time on earth would end up
DEATH IS COMING
TO US ALL
NONE CAN ESCAPE?WE?AWAIT
FATE

# content tracing: the Conqueror Worm By Edgar Allan Poe

writing.com corona sonnet form challenge



my Mother’s secret life as a mad poet   Not for publication - remove from Poetry soup etc



one day I discovered
an unpublished poem
that my mother
had written

when she was in the midst
of her madness
before dementia silenced
the voices in her head

she had typed it out
and hid it among her papers
I read it while going through her stuff
decided to kept it

and reflected up it
over the years

my mother was born
perhaps 40 years too soon
for she was a true free spirit
a truly original thinker

and I wished
she had published
her writings

in her story
she talked about
the endless blame
that she felt

besieged on all sides
by the demands
of her children
and her cold unfeeling husband
who just did not get her

her poem speaks for itself

A Mother's Blues

How much longer can I live
With the thin edge of hysteria
And constant paranoia?

The slightest misstep on my part
Unleashes a tirade of my past sins, real and imagined--because I am the enemy.

I can't be true to myself
Since if I disagree

Even in the friendliest manner
The 16-mm. guns are revved up for a full-scale counter attack.

I wonder that I am still functioning.
By now almost anyone known to me

Has been subjected to the most agonizing kind of torture
And my humiliation is almost complete.

The phone calls I have gotten
Asking if that is my real position?

Or even worse asking
What am I doing
To cause such unprecedented allegations
Of provoking suicide
Are almost unbelievable.

And yet I have to listen,
In no way say or do anything that would even suggest
That anyone else than myself is the cause

And that the correction must come from me.

The reason is that when I am able
I do not want to let anyone else think differently

Since I persist
In the notion
That this is private
And there should be no intrusions.

But then late at night
When I am exhausted
And with no more defenses
My vulnerability is so effectively exploited.

I turn the other cheek, I change the subject
But then I get cornered

Because there is the screaming insult,
The statement of fact that is not fact

The bitter charges, the assertion of a position
That is they condemned
In the non-stop monologue,

The immediate challenge to get out,
And the endless litany
Of the deepest kind of hatred.

Am I the one to run--I have to no avail.

Am I the one to fight back

I have but to no consequence.

Can I ask for the common decency?
Of being able to sleep for a few hours

So that I can stumble
Through the routine of earning some money
Which goes to support my continued torture.

Do I have the option of fighting all night,
Sleeping all day and then returning to the fray?

Do I even have the right of insisting
The ledger is not all that one-sided?

No, I'm there to assault.

Money in unimportant
And so I don't need to work.
Because when it is all lost the avenger
Will then ride to the rescue
By taking in the laundry.

Do my dreams matter?
No, they are false and of no consequence.
Or, worse they are wrong.
Or, even worse they should be stamped out.

And now my final abjection.  Exhausted, desperately striving for the moment of quiet that precedes a restful sleep a son arrives asking for a chat. I try but I don't want to give advice, as I have none really to give. But my avenging angel swoops in saying why listen to that creep--he's a two-time loser. Did you know all the crimes he has committed?  Once again I could not remain detached and listen to the skill of the assault or the spilling of the hatred so long denied its vengeance.

I fight back and my humiliation is now complete.  Do I have any person left with whom I can feel whole? I am being reduced to a hunted animal.

If I have a kind word for anyone that person is at risk.  Can I fight back?  No, because there is the ultimate blackmail of the constant threat of suicide--I live daily with the fear that my reactions will trigger this.  After all, when the world is tired of hearing how bad I am what can prove it.

Should I finally admit this inevitability and take the only step that can forestall it and that is to move first.  What do I have to lose? NOTHING.  The anguish and hopelessness would finally be at an end.

My twenty-year struggle to do right would be at the end.

My god, how I have suffered but no one has asked since it was the suffering of others that was all that mattered.

How much larger must my burden of guilt become?  When, on when, can I have a reprieve?  Can my debts, real or imagined, ever be paid?


the poem spoke to me
for I was perhaps
her favorite son

for of her children
perhaps I was the only one
that ever got her

and I miss her
every day

and wished
I had told her
that before
dementia took her from us
and took her life

poetry superhighway prompt to write a letter based on your mother’s writings


Plane, Train or Automobile - none of us can escape our fate


in these dark and dire times
we find ourselves living
we often fear that the times
are infected with death

and so we are afraid
deathly afraid
that if we take a plane
we will find  General Corona
among the passengers

and we afraid
deadly afraid
that the subways
are incubators
of death and destruction

the virus spreads
fear and death
in its wake

many of us
retreating to our homes
and venturing out
in our cars

only to find
death is stalking us
as traffic piles up
traffic accidents
still killing more people
that the dreaded General Corona

the grim reaper smiles
his work is done
Satan thanks General. Corona
for a job well done

writing com daily dew drop in prompt


packages

they say
that God works in mysterious ways
his wonders to perform

every day it seems
that more and more
of what we buy
and consume

comes in packages
sent from here and there
as people
continue to practice
social distancing

and going to the store
becomes an exercise
fraught with peril
and danger

so we order
on line
and we get our packages
sent from here and there

one day we received
a gift package
of clams
delicious fresh clams

as I ate them
I thought of the workers
who had labored unseen
for me to enjoy
this bounty from the sea

and I gave thanks
to the gods
for making it happen

in this day and age
we should thank
those who are still
laboring to feed the world

they are the unsung heroes
of this war fought by nature
under the direction
of General Corona


tweeter speak poetry prompt April 16 Packages



computer madness sonnet


computer madness infects my soul
every day when I turn on my PC
and encounter endless  haiku error messages
constant crashing, constant eating my files
at times like this it seems to me
that my mad as a hatter crazed computer
is plotting against me and only me
it wants to drive me quite insane
sending me right around the bend
as I scream at my machine
it beeps at me this **** machine
smiling as I threaten once again
to shoot the hell bound machine

sonnet all poetry computer frustration contest
You have always been my sunshine

You have always been my sunshine
my moonshine, my load star
that guides me in the night
for your sunshine kissed my soul
the day that you walked
out of my dreams
into my life
and became my wife
for 38 years and counting
every morning I see you sleeping
your smile is like the sunshine
that wakes my soul
and banishes the nightmares
back to the dark corners of my mind

love sonnet for all poetry contest on prompt line Sunshine Kissed


Saturday April 18, 2020

Korean Blues Crown of Sonnets

I have been dealing with Things Korean
for almost 40 years now
dealing with a once exotic land
’now my second homeland?
first came to Korea?
in the Peace Corps in Korea?
went to Korea to find the woman
in search of the woman
who haunted my dreams
met the woman
Fell in love with the woman
From Korea who walked out my dreams
In an land still exotic

In a land still exotic
It was a very exotic different land
and even now decades later a new land
remains for most Americans
still a strange land exotic
but much more known land
in the US
due to K drama, K Pop,
Koreans have become globally cool but still exotic
Many of my fellow Americans
may know a few people from Korea
and some have served or lived in Korea
but to most of the us Americans
it remains over there still exotic
a strange Asian exotic land
A strange Asian Exotic land
I fell in love with that exotic land
now I spend half my time living Korean time
half in the U.S. time
and due to the corona time
will be here for some time
and well Korea
no longer an exotic land
as I am now just living in Korea
my thoughts half Korean
and even dream in Korean
so be it near the end of my time
I am back where I began
Writer digest prompt write an exotic poem wrote my first crown of sonnet form too, and it mostly rhymes! go figure




Cosmic Debris  Corona Sonnet


use as sample for remaining corona sonnet

the Conqueror Worm Corona Sonnet

Lo, t’s a galla night
within the lonesome later years
when around the world
the dreaded corona virus showed its might
spending fear to those in their later years
that it might take them in the night
that before the sun came up
their time on earth would end up
DEATH IS COMING
TO US ALL
WE  
WAIT
LATE
FATE


# content tracing: the Conqueror Worm By Edgar Allan Poe

writing.com corona sonnet form challenge



for Posting 2.  Cosmic Debris Corona sonnet 2

I received a mysterious email package
followed by a phone call offering me a magical mask
a mask that they claim would prevent me
from the dreaded General Corona
hey there
who you jiving with that cosmic debris
a mask that they did not want me
me to know about
TOP SECRET CODE 2 LEVEL  STUFF
MUST    ACT   NOW
SEND MONEY  ASAP
BUY
IT
NOW

# content tracing-  “Cosmic Debris by Frank Zappa”
with apologies to Frank Zappa




No More Ties for Me!

When I retired
I made three vows
to myself

first, I would spend
my remaining life
loving my wife

second, i would never wear a tie again
unless it was a real special occasion
as I hated wearing ties and suits

wore a suit and tie
almost every day
of my life

as a teacher
later as a foreign service officer
all over the world

last year of my job
I only wore a tie
on "tie worthy occasions"

since then I have been
tie free
except for a wedding

and I love it
hated suits and ties
just not Berkeley enough

for my free spirit
too **** corporate
and I don’t care anymore

and in Oregon, where I lived
no one wore a tie,
not the Oregon way

oh the last thing
I shave twice a month now
used to hate shaving

but I also don't like
a full shaggy itchy beard

and I shaved every day

for years and years
except when I was in the hospital
for a year

and I grew to love
having a beard
back then

back to the office
started shaving again
every **** day

now I do my thing
no office for me
and no more daily shaving

and a beard is also
very Northern Cal/Northwest
Oregonian Chic

so once every two weeks
is a good compromise
my beard is now a poet’s face

and so I hope to keep
these three vows
until my time is done

writing com Daily Dew Drop Inn prompt to write a poem about a piece of clothing





Corona Consumes Me  Corona Sonnet  3

I am consumed by the corona virus
and I am slowly being taken over
as the virus infects my mind
taking me over turning me
into a wild raving zombie man
Let there be light
will I become the first
ZOMBIE APOLYCAPASE LOOMS
WILL WE ALL DIE
CORONA
KILLS
ME

content tracing - Let there be light from Bible and the entire Zombie Apocalypse genre where the Zombie flu started usually in China as a flu and then morphs into the zombie disease



Sunday April 19, 2020

for posting General Corona Leads His Troops Into Battle, crown of sonnets

General Corona leads his forces across the world
riding on a black horse
from out of the Apocalypse  ride the four horsemen
which are let loose upon the world
He leads his forces across the world
into battle as the leader of his evil forces
The enemy of humanity
General Corona he does not care
nor does his virus minions care
about your nationality he does not care
about your politics he does not care
or your wealth or who you are
for all you are nothing but humanity
the corona general sees humanity
the corona general sees humanity
as nothing but hosts for his virus army

as nothing but hosts for his virus army
chanting death to humanity
until his evil army
sweeps throughout the world
throughout the world
and millions must die
it is the will of the general all must die
and it is the end of the world
or perhaps the beginning of a new world
filled with hope and love through out the world
humanity comes alive throughout the world
fighting back against the virus army
peace, love and compassion defeats the army
and general corona will finally himself die




Voice Message for God

dialing 202-346-5666  Beep
You have reached GOD
Press 1 for English, Press 2 for Spanish
leave a message or prayer
and maybe an angel will call you
will get back to you Beep
Hey GOD someone sent me your number
and well I hope I’ve reached your number
I don’t know where to start that’s the point
GOD I am scared of you
all the time is my point
I am so afraid, so scared
of the dreaded General Corona
and his invisible army is my point

and his invisible army is my point
forcing me to stay at home
and I am sacred
that you anointed the wrong man  
to be our leader, that makes me sacred
not to second guess you man
your will be done and all of that man
but GOD, can’t you do better job my man
of anointing our leaders to serve under GOD
of all the people in the U.S. dear God
this is the best you can do?, man?
I mean you picked perhaps the one man
in the world who could be the anti-chris, God
Seriously GOD what is wrong with you? man

Seriously, GOD, what is wrong with you? man
was this all sort of a cosmic joke?
well it ain’t funny any more ain’t no joke
Please GOD make it all go away, man
Please GOD for the love of GOD
and all that is holly and good, man
just make it all go away, GOD
and anoint someone else, man
a real leader for a change, GOD
and let him lead us to the promised land  
this I pray in Jesus’s name, my man
and if I don’t make it, GOD
We have a lot to talk about GOD
See you on the other side, my man

writer digest prompt write a “message Poem” so this is a voice mail to GOD




Every Day I go Back in Time to when she came to Me

every day I go back in time
to the two events that changed my life
to the dream that haunted my life
and the day she walked into my life
and became my wife
I can never forget the dream
falling asleep in the physics class
as the teacher was going on and on
and as I nodded off
I saw here there
standing there
speaking to me
the most beautiful woman
in the entire world

in the entire world
she was speaking to me
and disappeared from my dreams
and I knew that i would be
meeting her some day she would come to me
and so I eventually went to Korea other side of the world
in the Peace corps hoping she would come to me
then one day i had the last and final dream
she said don’t worry she would soon come to me
and then she walked out of my dreams
and there she was she came to me
and so she walked out of my dreams
into my life, became my wife
when she came to me

Poetry Superhighway prompt to write a poem about time travel to your past or your future

I ask myself a plethora of questions as I lay weeping on my bed in the pursuit of crying myself to sleep at night.
I ask myself how you're so untouched by the ordeal of my pain, by which you have inflicted upon me.

How is it that someone can mean so much to you, or at least act like they do, and then stab you in the back, heart and stomach; simultaneously? How is it that someone can neglect your feelings so quickly and selectively? How is it that someone can jeopardize all that you've had and been through just for one insignificant, worthless moment?

These are just a small selected amount of questions that penetrate my ill, mind.

But it's your fault. Entirely. And I will blame you for eternity, infinity and furthermore endlessly.

From young, innocent specimens we are persistently told that hurting other people is immoral, so why are certain beings so immune and untouched to the pain that they inflict? Why are certain beings so rash within their decisions and therefore their actions? But most of all... How is it fair that specific humans are so untouched by their barbaric and murderous actions?

You might be untouched by my affliction, but at least I am in touch with my morals.

**Guilt will drown you but the current will move me on.

550

I cross till I am weary
A Mountain—in my mind—
More Mountains—then a Sea—
More Seas—And then
A Desert—find—

And My Horizon blocks
With steady—drifting—Grains
Of unconjectured quantity—
As Asiatic Rains—

Nor this—defeat my Pace—
It hinder from the West
But as an Enemy’s Salute
One hurrying to Rest—

What merit had the Goal—
Except there intervene
Faint Doubt—and far Competitor—
To jeopardize the Gain?

At last—the Grace in sight—
I shout unto my feet—
I offer them the Whole of Heaven
The instant that we meet—

They strive—and yet delay—
They perish—Do we die—
Or is this Death’s Experiment—
Reversed—in Victory?

I really should want to be here
This impending dread of tomorrow isn’t normal
I claw at my back
Push on my ribs and try
Try to collapse in and maybe just maybe
Concentrating and compacting who I am will make
Me
Clearer and more easily understood
And while my ribs jab my heart and my spine claws my stomach
It is a joyous reminder I have both
My head hurts and my hair falls in front of my eyes
I am just hoping my seams
Are better sown than those of my fading sneakers
Thread bare and fraying I fear coming undone
I don’t want to unravel and be a pile of string
But a ball of yarn is less out of place in this scene than my face

I need change
I don’t want it
Not like you seek comfort
No I seek only survival and change is a necessity to mine
Anyone who has known me long knows this
I constantly cut my hair and change its colors
Wear new things and change the things I have
I am a flowing gypsy not tethered to any place
But no matter how hard I try my personal change holds no grasp on the world’s around me

I am not nor will I ever be
A reflection of the world around me
No matter how I wish and try
I cannot mold the world to reflect the ball of yarn inside of me
I do not hate who I am
I wish not to conform and change who I am
Rather the world to shift its view so what’s inside me wasn’t so foreign and strange
I wish I wanted to be here
I wish I longed to see your faces
But when I take a leave of absence I don’t seek to return
I can take vacations but these journeys are only a reminder of the world that I have to come home to
Not a refreshing break to prepare me to return

There are too many noose filled closets
And too many plastic faces
I wish I didn’t have to face everyone around me as if I was the part of themselves they hate
I wish I wasn’t a target
But I would not change the reminder that I have become
That red flag in the fog in this place that shows people a piece of themselves they tried to bury
I will not change me
I will not change you
But in this twisted backwards world
My refusal to be someone else is a threat to your attempts to be
And I jeopardize your sinking ship of an image you have tried to build

And I am sorry
Not sorry that I force you to no longer deny your identity
I am purely sorry that I live in a world that I have that ability
I am sorry that me and you and everyone sit here
Yet I still am the only one with the power
The only one set upon the task of telling you
That you are human

Chapter 1: Goody Goodwill Was Exceptionally Great at Being Good

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you; I shall show you the way.
-Psalm 32:8


      The Preacher Goody Goodwill was a very fine man, and a good preacher too. Destined for the cloth, Goody felt that his was the way into the Good Lord's Grace and Goody knew as sure as God chose hues of blue and a brush He purchased* in March of 1973 at a PennySavers Discount Store in Moscow, Russia, to paint the sky from the break of dawn until the sun disappeared in all its God-given glory beneath the Western Horizon.

The Preacher Goody also knew that the Good Lord was a rather curious being, and even though He was an all-knowing, all-seeing omnipresent Divine being He was He and man was man and perched upon a Golden throne He often felt all on his own and gazed beyond the Pearly Gates and down the path of Salvation itself, and looked upon his Earthly domain and felt the urge to walk among men; thus, on far too often occasions in far too random locations the Lord took on the form of man, woman or animal and walked among his children. Once he even took on the form of a pebble on a seashore (though that turned out to be a rather boring experience not to be repeated).

Goody, too, decided that it was his duty to walk among men so that he may see sin for himself although he did so rarely and never randomly: a mere four times a year - on the first Monday of each season - Goody prepared a ritualistic bath meant to wash his holy vows away if only for a single day, and when he emerged from the scalding water, his skin was scathed which felt to Goody as it should be even though what he was doing surely had the chance to jeopardize his Holy soul and yet he did it not for hI'm but for mankind as Goody thought that God had planned despite no single word within the Lord’s own book described to be an act that preachers should be taking so they may be better preachers; but Goody knew what Goody knew which was what God expected preachers do, thus with common clothes and common thought, and feeling good he walked on out of this house and out of the town and among the men and women who sinned.

The preacher Goody Goodwill came from the very small town of Dimply, West Carolina, which was not much of a sinning sorta’ town but beyond its borders down a beaten path which then turned into pavement and led to a Highway, if one followed that path one would reach the Big City where sinners sinned away and where God and Goody both discovered how it was to be a man among the common man. Though the Lord Almighty frequented the city often and in many forms the preacher Goodwill had a strict routine to which he strictly stuck to, year after year.

          Throughout the day, four days a year, Goody put his faith to test as he roamed the big streets in the very Big City and watched and held his tongue lest he preach and his plan fall apart and the sinners would then see that a preach was in their reach and they surely would reach out and then Satan would have one ‘fore if Goody fell the way of the men who sinned all day then for sure he would be lost because Goody was the priest and he couldn't well forgive if he couldn't self-confess thus the risk which Goody took when he chose to risk his soul was a risk he surely knew was a risk that God would see and would write with His own hand in the Book which He would use to judge every single man.

As the sun began to set and the daylight fade away, he would start his way back home and thank God the day was done. Goody felt at peace when he finally reached his home where he'd take another bath and would emerge a Holy man and would don his Holy robes and he knew that he had proved what he knew he needn't prove, that he was a real good man and that good was what God wanted.

Black lives never mattered huh?

Hating on Asians is doing what for you?

Latino community. I feel your pain even more so still!

Stop stressing me about white privledge when it's all the colors
that bring life to everything that I enjoy and live for!

Never want to admit it.

HATE GOING TO WALMART!

Why we on land?

Living on a rock. Fighting over dirt!?

Whomp whomp whomp.

I probably sound like adult talking to a child

from the Peanut series. If I uninterest you.

Forgive me. My English is not perfect.
All of us were forced to make a place not meant for us home.

I refuse to become conditioned
and confined to a state of mind

Where I should withhold my opinion
or not fight for what I believe in.

Believe in your story. It holds your purpose.


When it comes to any of us.

You can listen to who you want!

Live your life. Have fun and be free!

You should take your own advice!

It's hard to hear you over the fact.

When my ideas crash into thoughts of doubt

My brain constantly screaming at my heart.

" NOBODY listens to me!"

Misunderstandings occur, it's not about what is said, it's the concept.

Our words cast spells. Let your actions take you

to great lengths to succeed and prevail!
Only so much words can do on paper or in text.

What is right?
From taking all that is left?

Holding my composure.
All behind this mask.
I'm better off anonymous
All sides of me must stay dominate
Navigate nicely through the nonsense
It feels that there is no other option but

sneezes


I'm allergic to ******* and ignorance intolerant!

I'm not religious.
I notice there's a war between Christians and Agnostics

What could a God do?
An interference could raise a universal conflict!

I do have faith in the future
Big Brother what is it now?
Our future leaders
What can we do?
Fight the system?
Do we override it?
System error. Time to reboot.
Allow me to just plea the fifth.

I understand the different between polar opposites.

All these people in control
Who's going to be the one
to BREAK THESE CHAINS?!
I'll BREAK A WALL
BEFORE I BURN A BRIDGE!
Abolish child slavery and **** culture
I NEVER SUPPORTED ANY OF THIS!


I prayed for strength and promised my future children

Before life was even given

My inner peace would benefit more than just one life.

Keep living! I'll never jeopardize anyone's security.  

Safety and love. Should be normalized.

Times have changed. People remain the same. We're
still searching for love. When it exist and it's around our essence.
Maybe, it will be our biggest struggle as humans.
==

Why you bicker about having common sense

While it's not even localized or fully utilized.

There are matters, in which myself on any degree

cannot come to terms on offering helpful hands just to compromise!

I will seek the truth in all formalized lies.

We are part of a movement on the rise

I'll live for these babies.

I'll die for these babies!

The evolution is coming.

A new wave of change

The light of a glorious star

lives more than just one!

it's now the time!

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!!!!!!!

Now in these eyes, petrified, terrified, suicide,
In all the walks of life, fighting only to survive,
A man's pride is weaponized; his failings widely televised,
All the moments of love's bitter sweet,—by what we gingerfy,
Love is red; putting yourself out there to be hurt and jeopardize,
Learning from past mistakes,—change of character we gentrify.

Oh the next line; follow suit of a route to death wrapped in a necktie,
We envy to say "hie," but are accustomed to saying short goodbyes,
As life is a constant trial; walking court cases with a confident smile,
"Guilty or not," all of my shortcomings I press on in their denial.

I've walked a thousand's,—in a mile of every breath of time,
Though I haven't lived a while, I've seen plenty in these eyes.

At a moment in time some things can change your life momentarily while others can change your life forever. In this case a man is challenged. Do we give up and fall or do we prosper? While things may not be easy do we grow stronger by faith or do we drift off in silence? Why stay quiet when others may have dealt with a similar situation as you? It's not healthy... The lord said accept the ones whose faith is weak, without quarreling over dispute matters. So why not be open? Why not be open to others for They may be blinded? Many Walk by sight and not by faith... We have to bring them in, we have to hold them close; not turn them away. the Lord said thou shall not judge or you too shall be judged. So why do you turn people away and cast them out? None of us are perfect but the man himself. So When we face challenges such as losing a loved one, losing a job, having allegations made to jeopardize you, hypocrites among you speaking hinderously, a sudden sickness or disease... It is Gods intention! For we may not understand why at first, his purpose was always written for each and everyone of us. In time, we will finally understand why certain obstacles were place in our lives.

Confession #1245:
The bible says he is my husband.
We both have long hair
we braid our hair together.
He kisses just right
and licks me like a dog.
When we make love
he asks me to cover
myself up in the streets
because I am his beloved
and I was made for him.
Sure, it's ***** but
it also makes me feel like
I'm his Holy Secret.

He loves the gays
He loves the sinners
because He ain't into judging people
by the way they be sinning differently.
If I step out of line,
He, watches, me, give, penance.
I go from sitting, to kneeling,
to standing, to sitting, to kneeling...
"Yes my Lord."

He sings versus from Song of Songs
our favorite erotica and we get down -
like a couple of innocent animals.
Sleeping afterwards as if we were dead
because everyday is a new resurrection.

It's some kind of redemption.

He loves me, I am His Mary Magdalena.
When I turn around
The ****** smiles at me
because we be all
glowing, floating.

He may not have my virginity
but He did pop my ****** cherry.
Yup, I said it and it's not gross
- it's pure love.
When I let Him in,
I prepare to, really, let Him in.
I mean everything,
I am His wilderness.

He taught me a new kind of tantra.
The kind of tantra that lets me be
a little girl, a young woman
and an abuela all at the same time.
Because when He is apart of me,
He whispers 'Beloved I am made
for you and you are made for me.'

He says things in three...
One, Two, Three...
He will spare me, his child.
He will spoil the rod...
or our shared copy of The Word.
If I lust after a man it makes me excited
to beg my Holy Spirit to forgive me...
I would never jeopardize a love
that reincarnates me.

When I look at him,
I think about how many times
how many revolutions
how many lives
how many millennia
Eternity.

He has a small drop
of my ***** juice in him.
I have a small drop of
his ***.
These two little pieces of us,
sit inside our stomachs.
When we laugh,
that's when
they are
speaking
to each other.

We never spill seed.
We don't want.
We don't waste.
If we do then, we spread,
it all over, moisture.

We dispense spit into
each other's mouths,
because...

Everything he says is perfect.
Everything he does is perfect.
Everything I say is perfect!
Everything I do is perfect!
If it's not, then it wasn't us,
it was the one armed man.
I AM sorry
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.

I ask him to come inside of me
once in the morning
and once at night.
Sometimes I call him Daniel.
Sometimes I call him Moses.
Sometimes I call him Luke...
Anything but ******.
'Yes my Lord.'

The hereafter, my paradise,
worshiping Him.
When we die, we dive,
deep deep deep
down down down

The Music
The Gospel
The Truth

The Light
The Son
The Mother

The Father
The Holy Spirit
The Dance

Where we have wings
made out of the internet.
The pixels of our love
are witnessed in perpetuity,
Immortality.
'Yes my Lord.'

Should have never been born at all
Not born at all is way
With this face
And this name
Don't cry inside your paper house or
Your paper hours comes crashing down
More than what my mother said
More than just a doll to dress
More than just an empty head
That couldn't ammount to less
Am I

What little I know about myself
Is piled high upon a shelf
Waiting for my mind to realign
And find that I've been
Starving my ego
Having conversations
With the skeletons in my closet
Making fun of their
Feeble spines But realizing
So is mine

Still too proud to apologize
I tried to write a poem
But ended up with a full waste bin
And a dull safety pin
Yet I don't mean to jeopardize
The precision of your perfect lies
Oh humanity I've tried
To define myself with a dictionary

Leaving fingerprints on the obituary
The fabric scraps in my closet still
Send me guilt from my grandmother
In patterns from the sixties

Oh one day when day when I'm dead and gone
And know that life is much too long
To spend as someone else
My poems and my fabric will become
Vintage pessimism in a shoebox
Glowering down from someone else's shelf

I've done it again, haven't I?
This will be the millionth time
I apologize.
Well, are you listening?
Because I am so very sorry,
It's such a woe and a misery
That I am unworthy to be
A human being
In your eyes.
Please, just accept me,
The way I am; stuffed with hurt.
I know I make everything worse,
A doll, that at night,
Brings you discomfort.
Did I do it again? Did I? Did I-
Step over lines and jeopardize,
The comfort we've built on top of lies?
Pretend that your mind twists
Itself inside mine,
That you empathize
With the way that my sight
Just ignores all the light.
It's so hard to find, am I blind?
You never cared for my cries,
So I became mute,
And let them play in silence.
Echoing, over you
Like ghostly violins
Wailing to the particles
Of souls and skin
I've turned to dust within
And I'll scatter like ash.

I won't look back 'cause the past is always sad.

I'll pave my own path
That can lead me to content
I don't need you to control me
Like the government.
I'll be free from these chains,
One day, without any regrets.
I'll turn to dust in your hands
And scatter away like ash.

A sorrowful remnant, a reminder of your past.

-SLuR

if you could back and meet your 5 year old self...
what would you say?
would you tell them who you are?
would you give advice, assuming you wouldn't jeopardize the final product that is you?
or would you let it be...
would you simply observe,
take their perspective into consideration
and try to learn from a simpler,
transparently benevolent state of mind?
the word naive instantly puts forth
the thought of an unintelligent point of view.
but i think to have a mind set,
that of a less-experienced self,
may in fact help a more exposed psyche.
the world is so full, in the sense that,
we learn so much by the time
we are old enough to deem ourselves intelligent,
that we forget to think of things more simply.
we base everything off of mass, habitual tendencies:
the way we are used to thinking instead of
what is right,
or what is logical,
or makes makes sense based off of fact
and not emotion
or instinct of habit.
at the age,
although me may feel it effortless to imagine a sense of self,
we dont do so.
we feel less self conscious
but never think of ourselves from anothers perspective,
not to say we are selfish
but we are reactive in a much more intelligent way
than our minds slowly evolve to be.

Did you know I belong to you?
The  river that runs deep is drowning me  
This heart of mine is yours
In this anguish when everything is crumbling down
You can listen to the sound of my voice
I will take you there
Your inconceivable  I can’t get enough
The gentleness of your hands
The feeling of you bare
I’m a prisoner in this
Are you letting me go ?
Is it that simple to let it be ?
I need to look into those eyes as I enter you
I beg you I plead
When did you think its alright to jeopardize my soul?

Don’t wanna cry anymore, don’t wanna die anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore
I’m tryna be everyone’s hero but I’m the one that needs saving
On the verge of falling apart, i can feel my heart breaking
Many see me as their savior but I’m far from it
They show me this angel in me & i struggle trying to become it
Using poetry as a key to bring light to the pain hidden in darkness
And the power to heal the wounds of the hearts used as targets

I don’t wanna die anymore, don’t wanna cry anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore
If i walk away now, who’s life would i jeopardize
Seeing an inspiration give it all up to watch his soul fly
Save me from the tears, save me from the scars
Save me from the misery that leaves me resting with the stars

I don’t wanna die anymore, don’t wanna cry anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore
This is my purpose so i can’t give up what’s kept me alive
Can’t pretend to be happy with the obvious pain i try to hide
I don’t wanna die anymore, don’t wanna cry anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore

- Poetic Venom

«You always write the weirdest things»,
she says with a java jive smile.
The sun burns red among the living.

I lay down with my thoughts,
what a marvelous sight:
you and the river.

I guess you are unique
in a world of colors,
so paint at your will.

And if my colors should fail
and jeopardize the painting,
I'll know what to do.

I'll **** every morning,
waste every sun.

I'd rather stay on the shore
and watch you happen
than to live with half a smile.

In no way am I trying
to intrude, jeopardize,
or interrupt your life
Before farewell my friend
or a final goodbye
I need you to know
there will be a guy
Waiting on stand-by
Dying to knight, shine,
and finally make things right

If you ever need me
No matter the reason
I will run full speed
and be there immediately
the next guy better appreciate
Every breath you breathe
You should mean to him
Everything and more
than you mean to me

The two of you
should always stay true
Leave nothing to prove
Celebrate while winning
because it ***** when you lose
It's like smelling shhh
and the last place you look
is under your shoes
Just keep a tight grip
and let nothing elude

With that I'll say
Goodbye for now