"maintained" poems
I want to sleep forever and reside in my dreams
To frolic through a collage of different spectacles and scenes
An escape from the insufferable, cruel world at large
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever so I can live in my dreams
The ruler of the lands, the queen of all kings
With nothing to fear but the darkside of the conscience
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever and fight my inner demons
Provide peace of mind for all bothered and exhausted
Float on utter bliss; those monsters, I'll never miss
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever and never show sadness again
Bright, long-lasting smiles on weekly sullen days
Created and maintained in a variety of ways
I want to sleep forever
I want to sleep forever to erase everything
I want to sleep forever and feel warmth again
To bathe myself in content that won't ever end
Let me sleep forever
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
I’ve never received a flower
Or even a rose
But I’m a guy
So it’s acceptable I suppose
No kisses
Or sweets
No treats
That signifies ones feelings for me
No token of ones love
But I have gotten
Disappointment
Watered with hate
Planted in betrayal
Fertilized with lies
And maintained by fakes
Roses are Red
But my roses are dead
And crumble beneath my feet
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC
Back in the day,
When I was a little whipper snapper in Leeds,
We would go “chumping”, as we called it, for firewood,
For weeks and weeks.
Everyone built towering infernos,
Ready for November Fifth:
Bonfire Night.
Some made effigies of the “evil” Guy Fawkes,
Leader of the “Gunpowder Plot”
And stood in the street saying
“Penny for the Guy”.
What a night!
Roaring fire on a chill Winter night,
Those flames burning your face.
A World War Three
Of Fireworks:
Rockets, Catherine Wheels and bangers.
Bangers to scare the girls.
Kids painting pictures in the air
With sparklers.
And best of all,
That yummy gingery Parkin cake:
A taste I cannot put
Into words.
Oh and deep dark
Treacle Toffee,
Jacket potatoes,
Roast chestnuts
And Crunchie-like cinder toffee.
It’s many a year since I went to a bonfire.
Politically correct firework displays
Are more the modern thing.
Seems strange to burn the effigy
Of a man who had the sense
To try to blow parliament up –
Especially a Yorkshire Man.
Ha ha.
But then I read that good
Religious reasons are behind
This bonfire Celebration:
Those flames are orange
After all.
Not wishing to create divisions
Anywhere in the world,
It’s still good to see traditions
Being maintained.
Let those fires and fireworks keep rising,
Constantly emerging from the shadows
Of Halloween.
Paul Butters
© PB 27\10\2018.
Written at the request of Stephen Chapman. “Treacle toffee” added later, with “jacket potatoes” and “cinder toffee” added on 31\10\18. "Roast chestnuts" added 18\11.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 6:35 AM UTC
The first time I fell in love with a woman:
it was on a Saturday afternoon
a sunny day with blissful winds
I saw her walking down the street
talking to a friend, tending to a child
and carrying a water bucket on her head
she looked so fragile at that moment
but yet so strong ,
she moved like a lion, she had the weight of the whole world on her shoulders but still maintained her balance,
a goddess in every kind and form
she left me In awe not just by her beauty
but her strength, her pose and confidence
the way she moved put models to shame
her voice as serene as the oceans breeze
she had something in her that just made my deadly frown turn into a perfect smile
she made me happy, I fell deeply
As she moved closer, I could see the sweat dripping from her gracefully curved face
I noticed how each drop fell off her with a harmonious movement, she was a queen with a crown not made of the jewels of this world but those which are rare and not known to superficials
She looked deeply hurt and tormented by either her past,present or the future that is still so scared
She hides her scars with everything she got
her smile on her face to keep away the reflection of pain in her eyes
she was so badass but so soft inside
She walked past me with her head held high
she cared about no judgment but for one's peace of mind
She looked at me and we shared a smile
she spoke the silent language of admiration and pure love
and at that fateful moment I deeply fell in love with a woman
©m_e_reidow
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
My heart hurts
And so do my eyes
And what's left of my brain
And my legs ache
It is if as I am running from who I am
All the time.
I love her so much, I cannot even explain how deep
My love for her truly is.
And I cannot imagine my life without her
Because she truly is my light.
But I can't help how afraid I am.
I am not afraid of our beautiful relationship,
But what our relationship might be if
Someone-our school and/or parents- we're to find out.
I can feel tension and anger and sadness swell up inside of my chest
And all I want to do is to protect her.
But how can I do that by hiding all of the time?
We kissed openly yesterday by the lakefront
And my God, I miss the way she looked under that sunset.
I miss the way she tasted with that hint of salt in the air.
I just miss being hers openly.
Sometimes I ask myself and God, why am I gay?
Is there no man who will ever perfectly complete me like
She does? I honestly think not, she truly feels like the only one
Who can know me better than I ever could.
And does any mans lips feel any more truer than when her lips
Are on mine? Everything about me in this moment is a fire that is burning. I am burning and raging against this door because I'm not sure how much longer I can be contained. I simply cannot live in secrecy but if I ever let this flame out then everything would burn. I love her so much and I simply cannot let this flame go because if I did, all hell would break loose and we would both be put to death in the worst manner possible.
I just want to love her the way God meant for it to be, but how can I do that when everyone I've ever loved has told me it is wrong? That it is immoral and disgusting and a sin. I can't believe for a single second that our love could be a sin. Maybe we can't have children and maybe the way we make love is different from the way you do it, but in all honesty, is that what makes a relationship beautiful? I find the way she crinkles her nose to be enough to set a flame in my heart and the way she points her toes when swinging on swings to add to ignition and the way she smiles at me to keep me going forever. I love her so strongly and passionately that maybe I am crazy, but this love can certainly not be immoral. Why would He make me this way? Just to put me in hell? Did Satan indeed win my soul from the moment I was conceived and God just... gave up? No, I cannot believe this for a single second. He loves me and he loves her and he loves us and if you cannot understand how we have maintained this beautiful and loving relationship for so long while staying hidden it is because you do not see the effect that God has on us. I believe that he wants us together, not to eventually cause us pain. I hate lying, and I'm sure God can see it even more easily than my lovely girlfriend does, but maybe He lets me lie because he does not see any other way to let me be with my other half.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Hope, simply defined as a feeling of wanting something to happen and believing that it will.
A lot has been broken to shambles, in the name of hope.
Hope has become propaganda for the power hungry.
The corrupt feed hope to the people whilst they destroy all they lay their hands upon.
Principal systems use hope as a blinding face.
Is hope anything more than blatant desire?
Desire with an extreme expectation.
Desire to feel superior and needed.
Is it the desire to attain power regardless of what has to be sacrificed.
Hope is the fruit of religion.
Give thanks un to the lord, he will bless you with all your hopes and desires.
The leader's lifestyle is maintained by the suffering of the congregation.
Women and hope;
Inseparable entities.
Women hope.
We hope.
We hope to succeed.
We hope to wedd prince charming.
We hope to achieve the white picket fence lifestyle.
We hope.
Hope is a feeling.
Women are feelings.
No matter how many daggers have made her heart bleed.
She remains hopeful of Prince charming.
No matter how many babies she miscarries, she hopes the next one will be the blessing that lives.
No matter how many lies land on her ears.
She will find light where it does not exist.
No matter how many times she's abandoned, she remains hopeful.
Hope is a rope to disappointment.
...But someday: being hopeful will be the reason for all your bliss
Written by: Thuli Nkosi
Edited by: Minky
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
He almost let out a sigh of dismay,
Knowing this stint would be short lived.
The common sense in his head seemed to say,
"No one could be this lucky, don't have yourself deceived".
His wheels wobbled and shook; squeaked and wailed,
Under the collective weight of the two.
Screaming threats from worn bearings that ailed,
He did not want to appear weak so his legs pummelled on through.
The ease of cycling was only temporary
He pedalled harder to gain more speed.
Then the ground began to slope gently
His lungs felt like bursting as he pounded his iron steed.
The journey uphill had been more laborious than he had expected.
All the while, the beauty hadn't uttered a single word.
His mind had drifted off even though he was worn and ragged,
The thought of emerging as a couple seemed less than absurd.
The crest of the hill was a cool, long anticipated welcome.
He could finally ease up on the pedalling.
The view from there was nothing short of handsome,
The downhill would take charge and he could catch up on his breathing.
The wind met his face and whistled itself tuneless.
The bicycle rattled as it rolled down the uneven trail.
He felt a sense of flight, there was an air of calmness,
Almost had forgotten about the quiet guest on his tail.
At the bottom he thought he should check on his passenger,
He looked ahead as he addressed the lady.
When he had expected an almost immediate answer,
No response came, despite his calls for her repeatedly.
He pedalled with little effort as if there wasn't added weight
The bicycle slowed down to a clearing where it was dim.
Fatigue was setting in as the night stretched late
His curiosity won the battle and got the better of him.
He stopped his bicycle and maintained balance with his feet,
He twisted his torso so he could speak to his fare.
The moment he did so, his heart had almost ceased to beat,
To his horror, he found that the lady was no longer there...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
No country’s history makes us proud.
It is mere exploitation and colonization.
the poor were suppressed and oppressed.
The rich reveled in utmost luxury
And the weak lived in extreme penury.
The kings were fond of eulogy
And the poets excelled themselves in their elegy.
In the countries like India, the money was looted
the temples were plundered, and the system was blundered
And her progress was greatly hindered
Slowly the kings and kingdoms vanished
the so called democracies and socialism flourished
the bureaucracy and plutocracy replaced autocracy
Corruption and criminality maintained their status quo
After Independence, a new class emerged in India.
They became the rulers in the name of democracy.
There have been un-imaginable scandals
Money reached the Swiss bank like pearls in the ocean
India is a poor country but the Indians are rich
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 3:59 AM UTC
We humans have messed around
With Mother Nature and her eco-system
For years and years
Decades and decades
Centuries and centuries
Felling gazillions of trees
Turning forests into concrete jungles
Filling ponds, lakes, rivers and seas
With tons and tons of toxic waste
Releasing enough carbon monoxide into the air
To wreck the entire troposphere
The list of sins against Nature goes on and on
With no end in sight
Given all this, who are we to complain
When Mother Nature has had enough
And unleashes her fury on us
Through earthquakes and tsunamis
Avalanches and volcanoes
Hurricanes and tornadoes
Floods and droughts
And so on
Remember, Mother Nature has blessed us
With oodles of riches
In the form of plants and trees
Mountains and forests
Ponds, lakes, rivers, seas and oceans
And last but not the least, oxygen!
It is time we show her some gratitude
And more importantly, respect and compassion
And stop messing around with the eco-system
Remember the famous old saying
Live and let live
It doesn't mean infrastructure shouldn't be developed
We can build roads
We can build a railway network
We can build houses
We can build schools and colleges
We can build hospitals
We can build libraries
However, as my grandfather used to say
There is a limit to everything
And we should also plant trees
Build gardens and parks
Switch to renewable sources of energy
And cut down severely on emissions
A balance should be maintained
After all, messing around with Mother Nature
Will only bring about our own downfall
There have been enough natural disasters
Caused by human negligence
Let's not add to the list
Which is already longer than the river Nile!
May 9, 2022
May 9, 2022 at 12:54 PM UTC
To maintain peace and sound reflexes,
Sever every possible type of nexus,
With ex’s friends & friends exes,
Regardless of their sex's,
Above all, consider your cerebral plexus,
And know that wounds get infectious,
If unhealthy connections are maintained with one’s own exes.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
she gave me her cell #,
in a crowded bar
inked upon my forearm,
"in case in my drunkness, I dare forget,"
a common come-on technique,
that reeks of all good things to come
but I failed to see,
in the little letters,
"@ your own peril"
a warning, poorly heeded,
inflaming my now unimaginable
needy neededs,
just a **** come on,
or a warring warning of tumult,
vampirish blood *******
with cautious haste,
her number I did paste
into my contact list,
'in case of loss, call,'
when sudden notifications galore,
came unbidden from everywhere:
Are you really sure?
these digits seems were posted on a
Do Not Call list,
maintained by monks and bro's,
no, no, not a list of
what-rhymes-with-bro's,
but of fallen angels,
who knew the secrets of heaven
the price extracted for their revealing,
could cause you life long
arthritis of the heart,
per the Surgeon General,
for which the only cure,
endure, endure, endure...
the prize?
endless wonderful new poems, freely given,
but with one strictest of restrictions,
if published,
it meant your slow extinction!
*that is why the world calls me
Poet of the Way,
forever trying to find a way,
to away these treasured glories*
then one day,
he laughed and laughed,
when he first he read the magic key,
your poem, successfully saved *on
Hello Poetry!*
and now the poet endures,
even possibly, self-saved,
quite happily
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
Mother superior had dropped the gun,
Seeing the victim was her very own son.
There a saint was made to run
Drowned before the rising sun.
Messiah born on the first day of June,
Posing as a religious boon.
Preaching that the end is soon,
All in a tone resembling Sinatra’s croon.
Superiority held in the form of prayer,
Faith maintained at the behest of a dare.
Professor Lodz has lost his bear.
The Omega deemed this loss as fair.
Tammuz is smoking all the vegetation
Asherah has stopped all gestation,
Coming from a fit of ************
Working on a new form of taxation.
Jesus just took one huge dumb,
In the sink after snorting a quick bump.
The man had reached quite the slump.
Catching HPV from Fergies’s ****
Mohammad is eating all the pork.
Using hands, forgetting the fork.
******* chicks, with all kinds of torque,
Misinterpreting the path of a wayward stork.
Dinning on delicious swine.
And the finest forms of delicate wine.
Prophets of the world align.
And drink from the deceased Christopher Reeve’s spine.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
My recollect is of the each,
The Two
And within the Two
One is the One
Holding and using our lead and ink utensils
as if they are weapons for winning at Love,
and reasoning for our written duel
Expressing desires the voice would customarily sever into dissection
Permitting authority to the crafted scripts *********
and may it’s barrier lay
over the possibility of a broken and scattered tongues communicate
Giving our internal intent its day
the way hoped it would speak
Expecting the requited, the return
was a pesticide over wide horizon,
Where the organic surprise of rainfall kept us neutral and thankful
And apart,
our minds maintained with
and of our other
With no need for philosophical proofs only the inner felt proof
Of forwarding shards of sentiment
with compiled assurance
and a dispatched formula
the best way we could phrase
Alongside images
that came in and held tight
in sectors tucked away and reserved from the cherished
to this day are still to be amazed
Spontaneous placement of universally synchronized jewels and stones
Of not have to have
[Only the simplified, pushed down and planted fact]
Of want her to have
So when away,
You feel a personal, singled-out
appraisal of praise
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
Tweaker Tweaker
Did you eat any dinner
And Have you showered
Tweaker Tweaker
How long have you been awake
When's the last time you had real sleep
Or is everyday maintained
W/ 10mins every half hr.
Tweaker Tweaker
Do the shadows still appear
Are the voices the only thing you hear
Is what you feel inside your skin
Even real or just made up in your head
Tweaker Tweaker
Do you even care
The ones you love miss you so much
Do you even care
You've lost your life before 25
Tweaker Tweaker
Please get better
Reach out for help
Put the needle down
Drop the pipe, hear it shatter
Blow away that line you just crushed up
Tweaker Tweaker
It'll be alright
Your loved ones are still near
They still care
Reach out for help
Don't be scared
Everyone only wants to help
Tweaker Tweaker
When you quit
The devil will shout
It won't be easy , count on that
It will be worth it
You'll get to live
So try your best
Beat past this, you'll get through this
Slowly but surely
You'll make to 100 days sober
Reunite with all your loved ones
Employeed with a growing family
Is what will come
When you decide
It's time to end the Devils game
So
Tweaker no more,
but a lady or gentleman
Good for you
You've come far
Keep your mind positive
I'm proud of your sobriety
Congratulations
You're living
& now you see why
Sobriety was always worth it
Tweaker no more
Lady or gentleman
How was the meal you just had
Was the shower the best you've had ?
Did you finally get some sleep
Were you able to escape
the shadows and voices from in your head
Tweaker no more
Just admit
This is the best you've felt
Since your first time trying crystal
You feel human finally
There's no going back
To tweaker island
You won't make it out
The second time around
So hide your very best
Keep yourself busy
And talk out loud
When you feel like
you Might relapse back
into tweakers land.
With no chance to survive another night
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC
The Mafia and the Pope
the Italian mafia wanted to take control
they wanted control of the church and all its wealth
the leader Anthony “The Boss” Gambatti sent his muscle
to secure an audience with the Pope
Johnny “the Eye” and his storm troopers
pushed by the guards
into the Pope's secretary's office
Arch Bishop Spinozza
sprung to his feet to confront the noise
Johnny “the Eye”, he got that name
after he lost his left eye in a knife fight
and replaced it with a glass oversized eye
that always looked straight ahead
a burning cigarette hanging from his lips
he got right in the Bishops face
“The Boss” wants a meeting with his Royalness
“and he wants it now”
the Bishop well aware of his visitors
and there violent ways
backing away from the smoke in his face
told Johnny that he would arrange a meeting
“tomorrow” he said “tomorrow”
Johnny cocked his head
so that his large fake eye was an inch from
the Bishops nose
flicked the ashes from his cigarette
on the shoes of the Bishop
turning to walk away
“tomorrow” he said
Anthony “The Boss”
dressed in his fine 5K Italian silk suit
leather gloves
black silk fedora
accompanied by his entourage'
walked into the Popes office the next day
he sat in a chair in front of the Pope's desk
“What can I do for you Anthony?” asked the Pope
the two had grown up as school mates
and had maintained a relationship
though not close
“Carlos, I think it is time we work out
a financial aggreement with each other”
“being that the church is known for giving,
I think it is time for you to give me some money,
a lot of money”
“I have many expenses to address”
“to insure that this happens”
I want you to make love to a woman”
“and if I refuse such a horrid task? quizzed the Pope
“I will begin removing all of your Bishops,
one every hour, from all over the world”
”and it won't be pretty” responded Anthony
The Pope, obviously shaken with the proposal
got up from his chair, his face in his hands
paced back and forth for a few minutes
“I will agree to your disgusting request
on three conditions” said the Pope.
“and what are those conditions?” asked Anthony
“1st this woman must be blind,
so that she cannot see who defiles her body”
“2nd this woman must be deaf,
so that she cannot hear any hint of who defiles her body”
“and 3rd your holiness?”
“3rd, this woman must have really really big ****
Gomer Lepoet...
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
Brings truth and life to my enemy.
God is Love.
Jesus showed us this Love.
Forgiving.
For I was His enemy.
Delivered me
a package of His one Living True Word satisfying and made whole
Through Jesus Christ alone shall
"Enlightenment" be obtained
Retained and maintained as the
Constant that holds all things together
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
like failed
bookshelves
or crushed
steps
the hill houses
of poorer
classmates
worry me like weather
and put in me
visions
of large
men
called away
to feed
at a trough
maintained
by a family
of flat chested
asthmatics
who sell
magnets
one can later
dot with glue
and give
to the mother
who has
everything
quote unquote
crucifix
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Does it mean the same to me
That it means to you?
Is it your dreamland paradise?
Can these dreams come true?
Is it meeting your soulmate
Or finally achieving your MBA?
Maybe it is just staying sober
And taking it day by day
Is it a mood or a lifetime
Or only a wonderland?
Can it be Heaven on Earth?
Does it have to be free of the ******
It is "The Promise Land",
According to Webster's definition
That's what we once called America,
Have we maintained this characterization?
"Fairytale-land" is one more synonym
If this is true, let's use Disney's example
Bitter stories with exuberant endings
The possibilities are prepetual and ample
Are we all living in our land of enchantment?
Is Utopia what we create and decide?
Can we have a miserable paradise
If that's how we live in our minds?
I've had so many hard times
But if you ask I want you to know
I only count the eminent in-betweens
I only live in the moments that glow
You only have one life to live
So now you better decide
Are you living in your Utopia?
And is it what you visioned in your mind?
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
What if I fell in love
With a broken down son-of-a-bitch
Not because I needed to fix him
But simply because I wanted to revel in his beauty
The maddening craziness
Of a life
A life that didn't need to be maintained with perfection
A life where you could just knock down pillars that you didn't need
Destroy friendships that weren't beneficial
A life where one could disown one's own mother
Without the whole neighbourhood offering their tut-tuts
And their 5 cents too many
About how to trim your garden
What if I fell in love with a life
Who let their weeds grow
And created a garden out of thorns
A **** patch that would make those neighbours shriek
What if I fell in love with chaos and disorder
Not to right the tables
Nor to order the shelves
What if I didn't attempt to prune the garden
But I let it grow into a forest
And then laughed when I stepped on a thorn
What if I let the sun shine through the madness
What if I opened my arms to the destruction
What if you sung me a lullaby out of tune
And I asked you to sing it anyways…
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
the LORD & I have been arguing for days
over four small words:
[thy will be done.]
let this be known:
never is there a bigger sacrifice
than compromising the cloth that has woven your soul,
choosing to burn its textile
rather than cling to its strong stitchings & worn-in, familiar pattern,
leaving you in nothing but incinerated rags.
I plea for maintained remains of
this combusted fallacy of joy,
whilst He responds with simply
[I am making all things new.]
please hear this:
there is truly nothing that can mend you here,
nothing that can weave you together &
save your heart from being torn
as a love letter ripped into shreds of its possibilities,
leaving you with nothing but
disintegrated
dreams.
my past is aching to become my present,
& my perceived future has begun to rewind.
my place in this world has become null&void;
without the hope I once held close.
for what happens to a princess
when her earthly prince continues to commit slow suicide?
[peace, My child.]
I can hear my bones screaming to be heard,
as songs on a broken record,
stuck on repeating the same old refrain:
*please please please please please…
[on earth as it is in Heaven.]*
night sweats--
when your mind cannot stop running even whilst you sleep.
shaking limbs—
when your heart trembles & begs to stay alive.
*[plans to prosper you, not harm you;
plans for hope & a future.]*
I’m strung out on all these things that keep me sane
while my mind feels like its going through
withdrawals of the Holy Spirit—
WHERE ARE YOU, GOD
& WHY IS THIS YOUR PLAN?
YOU DO NOT LOVE ME AS YOU ONCE DID.
[those who hope in the LORD renew their strength.]
laying on my bedroom floor
with hymns pouring from my mouth
like tongues of fire & bile
I feel farther from glory
than I ever have.
[He restores my soul.]
LORD
as Christ once begged of you
Take This Cup,
LORD
I plea
for deliverance
for reconciliation
for an exodus from this body that is
full of intoxication
& self-loathing.
[until the very end of the age.]
LET MY SPIRIT RISE FROM THE ASHES
& BE HEALED OF THIS HORROR.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Once upon a time, I knew you.
Innocent, alone, quiet, but it all seemed like
A bad case of deja vu.
You knew me once, twice, thrice...
I knew,
You have the power to make our world
Or destroy it.
Despite this, I faithfully
Maintained the only promise I've ever made.
Once upon a time I felt the sun
Kiss my face and the wild breeze
Tame my hurting soul.
But now, I only feel the present.
All I know now is the emptiness
Of having everything torn away
From you.
This emptiness you brought me--
Let me repay it
As many times as you will allow me.
Or until
We return
To once upon a time.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
Th poems were walking down the street
A young teenage girl,
A Professional Loser, but life lessoned and in possession of
Eagled-claws and tongue razored sharpened
From gettin/givin acidic high school barbed kisses
(She maintained up to date put down lists),
Swooped them up, hers to imprison,
Framed them to be soully hers,
Purposed for skin restoration during the wee hours of the
Crying Nights
A middle aged man, tired from failure,
Trapped tween lost rock n' roll dreams and
Unsuccessful retirement planning,
Suffocated by the hands of twixt and tween,
Grabbed the three, like a rock climbing hand-hold to
Take him home when and where his family looks at him
Pathetically.
This grandfather espied the other two,
Looked liked old familiars, friends maybe,
But eyes/words, dimmed, disparu,
Memories unsorted, disordered, jumble-merged,
Perhaps the words to a song he once knew complete,
But did he write that phrase, or was he just a poet
Thief?
The three poems went about their business,
Bringing heaven to earth,
*FYI, even Angels can't be everywhere, so,
God invented poems to do his ***** work,
Cleansing souls.*
They rode in~out of town on a prankster wave,
A cheering throng was not around,
But a singular poet saw, recorded the vision,
And thus, this nameless poet,
Below unmasked, unsealed,
Cleansed one more soul,
And that soul, this soul, as required,
Paid it forward.
Paid as in the past tense
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
Christmas died with Santa Clause
when I reached a certain age.
The magic revealed as scam,
the wonder now an act
maintained for the sake of form.
This descended, in my teens,
into outright distaste -
all the trappings
a failed attempt
to light a lost wonderland;
a decorated tree
incongruous and distasteful
as a chimp in a suit.
Anger waned,
disinterest set in,
and I merely wished to avoid it all.
But through your eyes
a miracle occurs:
Papa Noel, mistaking his season,
makes an Easter of Christmas
by rising triumphant.
A tinsel star becomes a true Polaris
and love,
for anybody's sake,
is everything.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 5:28 AM UTC
My darling you do know right?
That I love you in spite of every ‘in spite’
And forever would love you this way
I know you’d wonder-Why did I leave then?
Well sweetheart, have you ever seen
The sun and the moon intertwined?
We always believed that I
was your apple sauce
And you my pork chop
Either went missing
The delight shall remain incomplete
But love, you do know it hit both of us
How weak was the foundation of this structure
Infallibility is not something each
Relationship can afford
With which I perfectly agree
But only if it were for errors committed
Honestly in love
This moon would have defied
The force of gravity to reach his sun
Even when it meant burning his identity
My ashes would also have
Whispered your name girl
If only our attempts had been honest
Just for once
For the eyes drifting upwards
Did see us together at times
But hon, we were never intertwined
If only our apologies had some substance
If only our love were more than just pleasure
If only it were based on truth rather than fraudulence
If only we had recognized OUR relevance
I’ll not waste much of your precious time
End I shall this sorrowful ballad
With these final parting lines-
“That every night this moon re-lives
The vivid memory of
The light radiated from his sun
That helps him hide the bruises, ugly scars
Dark holes in his soul from
The world’s gaze
Shining brightly every crepuscule
Following a similar phenomenon
As that of the celestial sun- giving its light
From millions of miles away to its celestial moon
The distance in no way affects the connection
between the two
Cupcake we both know that the moon
Will never have light of its own
It is the sun that will forever be the source
And the miles will forever exist
And must be maintained
To prevent the breaking of hearts beyond repair
Prevention is a necessity
Since the sound of such an apocalypse
Might remain unheard
receiving none’s attention and solace
For sound does not travel in space”
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
Elephants are the only animal species, known as a fact, to die of a broken heart. Their tough, leather skin can only guard so much; breaking blows from predators and using their sturdy bodies for protection. But surviving instincts and dealing with sadness are on the opposite sides of the spectrum. Social constructs maintained by female elephants, emotional seeds developed from birth; no wonder females are powerful, at least in elephant herds. The social constructs of human species, inferiority is an expectation. Motherhood and career balance, sexualization, acid punishments for justice, “Voice for Choice” since women shouldn’t take their bodies in their own hands, rapes unidentified, and youth more beautiful than souls. Sometimes, I wish I was an elephant.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC