"lora" poems
I’m bending over backwards, cracked words falling from my lips as I try to explain to you who I want to be. My spine cracks beneath the strain.
You turn every phrase I try to translate to you into some spiel, shoved into my face. You called me crazy for being a creative thinker.
The materialization of my existence bursts forth into vibrant colors, a catalyst sparking my unwillingness to become you, who “raised” me.
I still have scars from the lies you carved into my skin, I scratched their opposites on top of them to blot out the dark tendrils of your misery and replace them with my own faltering hope.
Burning and tearing trying to prove I’m not the monster you tried to make
Taking charge of my own youth, teaching my own self discipline to restrain the unfathomable hate I have what you’ve done
At 11 years old you had lora, your /new wife/ steal my diary when she kicked me out of my room to clean it. That night her, sara and yourself read passaged from it aloud and laughed at me.
You turned my brothers against me so I’d always be fighting alone, pitting us against each other like wolves, but I got kicked out of the pack.
I became a fire
Scorching pages of my life’s history till it was erased, retaining the anger of memories and bridges burned.
I was never the villain you played me out as, I learned all my swears from you. I learned all my negatives from the influence you provided. You taught me hatred
I was never the victim you tried to turn me into, maybe I thought I was, maybe I believed it for a little while. That fabrication was never true, never who I was.
You said I was your favorite, yeah maybe your favorite to tear down, your favorite to break.
I’ve figured out that people only try to gain forgiveness from things they’ve broken after they’ve messed them up past the point where those relationships can be mended, its proven with you, with my brothers.
You made too many mistakes to fix this, not with gifts, nor with promises that are broken before they leave your lips.
We share blood, I came from you, it seems my value dropped the moment I was born, and obviously you cant respect women enough to give your daughter enough of a chance to fight the world. So I forged my own weapons, sharpened my claws with the will to be better than you ever were.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Lumpy Lora was never known
She went through the halls unseen
Because the name brand items, she didn't own
Everyone she met was mean
Fast forward, it's junior year
Lumpy Lora is no more
All the weight she used to fear,
the dorky glasses and acne traded in for
Skinny jeans and crop tops
Micheal Kors and BB Cream
She soon began to pop
Lora became everyone's dream
The popular girls became her "family"
She drove boys crazy
Parties and alcohol became her melody
Everything began to get hazy
Boys wanted in quicker
Pushing for late night fun
When she would say no, they became hastier
They'd whisper, "It's just a good time, ***
Pills began to be the new game
Late nights in prison cells
People would gawk at her new fame
But at night, her tears would fill wells
Lora didn't want the glam
But simply wanted to know when
She could end the nightmare with a slam
And just become Lumpy Lora again
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
poetry with two spoons and a salt shaker
~for poet, writer, Lora Lee, unexpectedly~
my symphonic orchestral accompaniment today, musically
unlimited, except by lack of disowning skill, a voice unkempt,
spoons and salt shaker, there in-nate rhythmic opinions off key,
worse, my manly word-smithy, out o’town in June, July, August too?
He, having an affair with my she-muses, left me bereft & berated,
helplessly hoping, the timpani of my words clashing, overrated,
woeful under-something, betraying my need for spicy sriracha,
poetry, sans hamburger helper, no-tasty, even less-than-average
everyone comes rushing in to the kitchen, hearing my to-sky-voices
howling, thinking something wrong, the four instruments rack up a cacophony of rhythmic-less noises, words emerging, to-a-person, they announce, “you’re no Allen Ginsburg, ppp-please not so early next time”
alas, they don’t know the poems are coming hot and heavy, guess I’ll
go outside, serenade them birdies in the trees, the striped bass in the bay, the rabbits procreating/sleeping/eating under their (our) dock
the squirrels know better, have skedaddled to the next-door-neighbor who feeds them classical stuff with a dollop of jazz creme mixed in, but I don’t care, cause I got all day, the rest of my life, to amuse me & you too
to refine the qualitative, to improve my creative, I’ve gone “native” and the rush is the best, the wind beneath my spectacles (haha) drives my rhyming to lowlight heights of prosody, besides seems
everybody has gone to a different beach, so it’s just me and the giant blackbirds cawing holy hell noises, and I’m thinking seriously about baking pie, but they just don’t get the hint, how annoying is that!
harrumph!
BESIDES GOTTA WRITE SOME SERIOUS STUFF...
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
Where there is no past theres no present,
Where there's no present there's no future.
Where there's no darkness, there's no light,
if there is success, there must be failure,
if there's no sorrow and sadness, there are no
moments of pure happiness, when you can comb
your hair with your hand, smile to yourself, not the
casual smile of sadness and howl like a *******
wolf till your eyes are full of tears of happiness.
And if its love, then its worth waiting
And if its life, then its worth dying.
You look at the open window and laugh. She's gone. You laugh like a little boy and your tears are running all over your face,
your cigarette got wet and you light yourself a new one.
And if its life then its worth waiting
And if its love then its worth dying.
"Oh my sweet Lora, its been too long. No more the waiting and the lonely nights, We are forever now."
The open window seemed like a portal to a new place with one old and loved face.
It was too late and he jumped without screaming. It will take the sea few days to throw his lifeless body - an empty shell without a soul to the shore, or to be found by the constantly drunk fishermen. And only the room service lady who will come to clean the room the next morning will feel some kind of horrible chill when she closes the window.
"Must be the wind" she thought.
She reached out, looked at the stormy sea, closed the window and left while cursing the ****** visitors in this god forgotten place, that always miss the toilet and ashtrays.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 10:58 AM UTC
I'm up with the down,
Friction of the chi,
Balance in the chaos,
Spoken like
WORD
Prism owl
Moon shape
Blood shot
And words just speak,
Spoken
Like the wings of a flutter fly,
Clip the wings,
Utter die,
Mother ****** I
Am feeling
Like a mad Lora Lee,
Inspired cordially,
Notoriously Ded and risen,
Hate it love it,
Specters of the prison
Self .......help
And I'm feeling me,
On my feet
Life not kneeling me,
Onion layers,
Words
Peeling me,
Dealing me out
Because I'm poetrys *****
Yea I said it,
You read it,
Never regret it,
Fetish for word.....spoken,
Feel me.
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
Home is a powerful concept...if you can find that in the heart of others . A place that is safe, a place that too often bright and welcoming without judgement, a place to be understood, a place that celebrates you and looks for you, a place where the sunsets are always beautiful, a place that lights up upon your presence ...if you can find that where ever it may be ...Do not let go. Home is truly a magical place where we love one another . Home is You beautiful people Diamond Crazy Kristy, Santita, CJ Love, Fawn , Perry, Crow, Micrography- D, Pattie m, Luz Hanaii , Pegan Paul, , Cné , Star BG, Sue, emnabee, Omni, Temporal Fugue, Valsa George, Tash McKay , Lora Lee , Donna, False Poets, Kim JOHANNA Baker, Lily, Suzy, tinhearts, Nat lipstadt , Lori Jones Mckaffery, Elena, Joey,Mack, Gods1son, Khoi-San, Poetryjournal, Sheila Sharpe, Sjr1000, Polar, Monlight, Diya, M-E , Salmabunu Hatim , Jules just to name a few and etc
I am humbled, appreciative, grateful for all the love and your generosity with kindness. What we’re experiencing here is love manifested as poetry.
My love is real
~~~~
Love , love , love always bring healing to the incurable.
Thank You From The Bottom Of My Heart ❤️ Thank You
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 8:59 PM UTC
By: Lora Lucas
I am so hurt with pain,
And at this point I don't know who to blame,
It is bad when you don't know who you can trust,
But all the lies, lust, and dust,
But I know one person who will never let me down,
Who is always around,
Just because you may not see him there,
Does not mean he not here,
When I feel all is lost and I want to give up,
he gives me a push and some good luck,
Where the door is locked in front of me,
he will be there with the key,
So say a little prayer for me,
because at this time I am in need?
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
I sense the raging fury of a storm
That's unfolding as dark clouds gather;
Hold me close, and talk to me of love,
Or sing me a song, if you'd rather
Just as the bee hums his serenade
To the rose that waits in solitude,
Hover over me, and sing your song,
Talk to me of love ..... I'm in the mood
Talk to me of love, have you not seen
Angels straining when you whisper low?
Though divine, they cannot comprehend
How my roses blossom in the snow
Through torrential rains my sun still shines,
Rainbows stretch across my midnight sky;
Love's gifts dismiss time and circumstance,
Baffled Angels don't know how or why
How can words of love possess such power?
If true love is what the heart dictates,
Then the words that flow are absolute --
Just watch as they trample Heaven's gates
And together, boldly we enter
To join the blest throngs that dwell above;
It is on such nights that I rejoice --
When you whisper your sweet words of love!
Wait no longer, talk to me of love,
Profound feelings come to torture me:
Abandonment, loneliness, then tears --
A foreboding of calamity
And here it is ...... the warble of a bird --
Now my eyes perceive the dawn's first beam;
I don't want to hear what's coming next .....
"Wake up, Lora, this was but a dream!"
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC