The one job I loved
You took away from me
I shouldn't give you that power
But you've got me on my knee
Now every day is monotony
The light so far away
The amount the pain weighs
Trying to breath everyday
But water filling my lungs as I say
"This can't be the way"
I can't see a resolution
Sitting through electrocution
Of your words and your apology
I can see through the psychology
Lack of personal responsibility
You're pure juvenility
"I want to be friends"
But seeing your mistake gives you the bends
You can't have it both ways
That's the phrase that pays

when i was 14
i saw the dancing children
like stars in the night
bleakening
and how horrid
that memory was
sitting
repeating
in my head
and every time
i look to the universe
a spike of hate
poisons me

3 am
yelling to a child
whom taunts like the devil
you ruined me i scream
you ruined yourself it screams back
like a rag-doll
it pulls me
until I am ripped into pieces
unknowing of
who the child is

the child grapples onto me
nails dug deep
red marks blistering
it whispers,
you won’t let me go
as a deep laugh roars from within it
the child no longer a child
but a daemon
who took over what was once innocent.
a realization
hits me.

creation
a result of the destruction
of the mind,
a play of words.
what cannot be fixed with fingers and tools,
but with patience and everlasting love
acceptance,
forgiveness.

the demon lets go
creating a lightness,
soothing within

kicking and screaming
it hits at the back of my head
but I pay it no mind
hand in hand with the child it smiles
waving its goodbyes

n.b

curious child
peering from the bedroom door
half open
standing in the shadows
i watched him
he sat in his easy chair
right elbow propped
cigarette placed between index and *******
light from the tv flickering off the walls
smoke snaking its way to the ceiling

my Father
in his sixties then
lost in the vapid juvenility of Hee Haw
my Father
whose poetry i had discovered
tucked away
out of sight
out of mind
this little black book where he kept his soul
waiting
if he ever decided to find himself again
or perhaps to just remind himself

in the early stages of alzheimers
i saw him cry for the first time
wondering aloud
why after struggling for so many years
he was rewarded with a failing mind
and the loss of a friend
a friend left behind in a black book
a friend i never knew

I am still living in juvenility;
Why? Is it a psychic calamity?
Or that hidden reason,
The bird who symbolizes spring season?
Don't you believe in reason of bird?
Do you think I am a drunkard?
Really it's a drug addiction;
Power of Love, electronic fusion.
This feeling never lessens or ends,
An eternal Love for that egoistic mind bends.
Darling? Blue bird? What I call?
Why colorful mind wants a blue pal?
Come on bird, let's swim in water,
How long will I be submitted to void matter?
Come come, let's be blended into one entity,
And catch a fancy deer out of rude reality.

I was shown the world through a creative lens,
One where superpowers were real
And laughter was endless
Somewhere between the innocence and experience,
Life happened
The hero's began to fall
The sun forgot to rise
Soon, imaginations were misused
Actions misguided,
Though faint memories of juvenility remain--
The undeniable feeling of believing in something amazing
Of something beautiful
And I remember,
For a fraction of a second, I remember what it feels like to be *free

I look into the mirror and I am surprised to see
That I don't recognize the woman who looks back at me

There are no red highlights in her long blond hair
In it's place gray has taken root there

Skin that was once flushed with juvenility
Now is wrinkled and shows signs of antiquity

Eyes that were once bright and keen
Now look faded from the years they've seen

This can't be my reflection that I see
This old woman who's looking back at me

I can't have aged this many years
I'm not as old as this woman appears

Then I start thinking of the days gone by
And feel the tears pick my eyes

Growing up with in a family who loves me still
Going to school filling the bill

Dating and meeting the man I'd wed
Remembering the vows that we said

Being blessed with a new life to raise
Oh how young I was in those days

The years flew by as I reminisced
Remembering each milestone, the turns and twists

I looked at my reflection again and seen
A wise and mature woman looking back at me

A sad smile forms on my lips
As I slowly come to grips

That the years have caught up with me
And the price I pay is my vanity

Still, I wouldn't trade the wrinkles or one gray hair
For I've enjoyed the life that has gotten me here

Now I look forward instead of looking at the past
No waisting time, it goes by too fast

Blessed with a daughter and two grandsons who love me
I'm proud to be called Mom and "Grammy"

Yes, time has taken it's toll
But I still know how to rock and roll

So with each new day I'll dance and sing
To life's music and the gift's it brings

I give my thanks to the Lord and Lady above
For the years I've seen and all the love

L. A. Anglin
Copyright © 2014

girls in lithe dresses
  still in photographs

they hurt like daggers—

being this young
  hurts like a dagger, too as
their eyes divine something
  in me,
or their hurtling way of being so
    ineffably in place
  and i, placeless,
  skin flushed hot
   like receiving a multitude of tongues,
    this juvenility,
   everything around me is lissomeness
     just— tryingly closing my eyes
hoping to be awakened by the roaring
     of blood in vein,
  put to sleep by a lapidary brush
    of hum: a delicate soft-petalled song
       but i am a child
   lost in a field
         of various flowers.

Strapped and bound to the wall
a game of ******* and chains, as
solitude light casts shadows
on an abomination's remains,

I gaze into the mirror on the wall
my troubled face pasty as sour milk
and the laughing glass laughs, taunting
from beneath a surface as smooth as silk

for within its nether-twine frame
thy carbon copy mimics my reflection
spun from a festering web of sorrow,
and tainted by prolific perfection

the accusations of people that have been cast
through my estranged blood it runs,
for bending both ways is despicable
and to do so I might as well kiss their loaded guns

and as I stare at my sorry reflection
I see juvenility, excitement and confusion
daggers of shame piercing my eyes,
the skin around blackening from their intrusion, and pathetic lies

oh yes change is strange
and as humans we naturally fear
but love is such a word now often unheard
causing the laughing glass to leer

and now when I look at myself
I don't see who I truly am,
that, beyond their cackles and conniving remarks,
I am actually so much more than -

I see a stranger, a ******, a mistaken queer,
the number one prestigious freak -

but from the shadows I will rise
and from my heart I will finally speak.

Let’s jaunt to the golden time of childhood
when days were blithe, life was colorful
peers were guileless, words were sweet
simple was the life, above all worries

juvenility brought its own jiff
which turned into teen with eye blink
yen of being adult started vanishing
As the real face of life revealed

clay castles that were made in nursery
perished with the wind of bleakness
worldly needs displaced naive wants
bitterness took place of sweet words

the Wisdom of youth is vital too
perks of being conscious have their value
still miss that innocence of good days
whose charms are lost in this whirl.

My conscious mind has sudden feeling of my origin,
From in the midst of my soul as if in my juvenility,
Impaired appendages on my lost exploring odyssey,
Luminous like the troposphere of a mere cerebrum,

Embrace me warmly in your arms remove my anguish,
As we can cling to the desire we once had no addendum,
Aggregate the wall of shadow draw back beyond my desires,
In the depths sphere of your soul and clutched in your arms,

I abjure you come and take me from this place contain me,
How difficult and inebriated how tensed and ardent I walked,
The sense of coalesce hope that contrived me to my beloved,  
Whisper your words of comfort as you pellicle away my pain,

Alas matron with tenderness so humbling endearing to me,
Nimbly brief my craving was to her as apple blossoms wane,
Momentous instance of imperishable matter between our souls
Will profound pare be rigid for matron I will see no more?  
By Andrew Guzaldo 1/12/2019 ©

Overlooks the juvenility.
The shrinking genitals.
It was the militancy.
The freedom, brought
about by the guns.
Now indiscreetly firing at the sky.

This deadpan delivery
of the shut doors. Economy
has failed the toads,
the croaking minions. A raw
poem speaks now
for the unopened coffins.

The run, the run of the
century begins. Some one was
running, non-stop, from
sleep to sleep, away from the ******
assaults, from rapes, from
man-slaughter.

In an isolated system of demarcation
The juvenility flourish
Like a dead sea
Stagnant for ages
And fish surviving from the air within!
The cult of being survivor
And seeker at the same is
So demolishing,
That....; the demon inside , beg for liberation even.
A pearl deep in the sea, the colour of rainbow after rain in falling day
A glimpse from the side of ur eyes, for the face of beloved,
These all unsuals are so enthralling , high and above the smook of ****!
The tunes of all these sounds, i envelop deep down my heart, under folds of its colours, floating in the red blood
So after death,only concealers could reveal the reality and do remedy!

In a vicious country, and a distant age

A girl was born of biddable and

penniless parentage,

The moon that glittered upon her

blessed birth,

The sky that vouched for her blessed

birth,

On the planet Earth when she was

born,

The flourishing birth of love

bestrewed

nonchalantly all over the room,

Her dazzling and delicate eyes ceased

the days of grudge,

Her arms like the flabby branches of a

tree, softly

Kissing the earth,

Her lips like the petals of a flower,

And her cheeks burnished like

sunflowers in bloom,

But as time passed away there

followed after

The blues of opprobrium,

The sound of a sour high-pitched

shout,

A moment of decrepitude;

of solitude and sadness,

A sigh of pain,

Beyond a lot of pain, her parents were

poor,

Yet they brooked to tender her,

Years passed by, she grew lovelier still;

On her face, the exuberance of

devotedness and harmony was

inveterated,

Her world, the amorousness of her

parents

Father’s adoration and mother’s kiss.

She never believed herself alone,

Her talking in low tones,

Like the birds luscious warbling in the

treetops.

Breezily and promptly sped the quiet

days;

The beautiful girl has flowered into

juvenility,

And still, her glamor was not faded

away,

And still, her notions were the truths

of probity.

Then, like a voice of floods,

An untamed wind washed everything

away,

The pacification, enchantment,

contentment ;

of her parents

As she was *****, spoiled and harmed

by sharp knives

Then a body, crippled, dead, lacerated

and imbrued

Her face vague

Yet over her soul,

Mortals blubbered with fears and

hopes

Much yet remains unsaid –

The coffin was laid,

Her body shouldered and finally

consigned to one of the graves of the

graveyard in Kashmir,

And is still unjustified.