"marriages" poems
613 200 Hours
25 550 Days
13 Cars
11 Jobs
9 Dogs
6 Surgeries
5 Children
4 Grandchildren
3 Marriages
2 Siblings
1 Weary soul.
No regrets.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
I am Christian. I believe in the
Trinity of the Holy God, The Son, and The Spirit,
I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and the savior of mankind
I own more than three Bibles
I teach Sunday School every week and
I pray every night.
I am Christian,
And as such I
Hate queer....
Phobia. I can not stand intolerance
And I cry at hatred,
Blood running in the streets,
Fear running in veins,
Running away from the truth.
I am Christian, yet
There are bloodstains in my Bible
And the prayers on my lips
Are for forgiveness for who I am.
The entire story of ***** is
Crossed out, blacked out angrily
In the dead of night
In all 4 versions,
Leviticus is blurred,
Wrinkled with my tears,
Soaked with my pain.
I am Christian
And I am not homophobic.
I know my church won't recognize
Non cis-het marriages,
Leaving entire worlds of rainbows in the dark
The higher-ups insist
Weddings are white, shiny, husband-and-wife, happily-ever-after affairs
That shove me and my friends, my family, my lovers,
Into closets of heavenly wrath and
Fire and brimstone sermons,
Locked into personal hells of shame
And confusion.
I am Christian
And I am not straight.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He loves me because I try not to hate.
So to the homophobic Christians, I ask:
Who is your God?
Who is your God that supposedly condemns people He has created in his own image?
Your rainbow picket signs are nothing but a cruel mockery of a covenant
Not truly shared by you.
Your tongues are no better than the viper's who called Adam and Eve to sin,
You are the vipers of my world.
Do you think you avoid judgement
When trans teens are killed
By the bullets you spit with your words?
Who is your God,
That tells you to picket the funerals
Of those you hate?
Who is your God,
That refuses to let you open your heart to differentness?
I am Christian,
And I don't need your permission to
Love my God.
Take my scars and tear-stained Bibles,
Listen to my fervent prayers,
Watch my lips tremble when
I listen to my pastor.
I don't need your permission
To love who I want,
In fact I don't want it.
Take my midnight screaming and fear of coming out,
Listen to my frantic pleading for a hand to hold,
Watch my eyes linger on her chest.
I am Christian.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He hates you who refuse to love
While you carry His name, if
Not his blessing.
So I ask again
Who is your God?
Because mine loves all of me,
All 5'6" of queer pride.
Who is your God?
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
*our hands are like flowers
eaten by a fox
we cut off our clothes
to make room for these words
and disguised our souls in nothing
feelings suspended we rear-ended the world
stood upon bridges waving at girls
shreds of starlight
reflect the falling carriages
sadness and birth are beyond your marriages
same story told throughout the eons
our personal feelings are diluted in the sea
just as we could no longer hold on
our shadows found the ground
and we floated down to safety*
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
Your car is a pressure cooker for sibling combustibility and
you sound pretentious when you call me pretentious so
I turn to look out the window and not at
your smug face but I know that
soon I will turn back and you will not be there.
In your mind
anything that isn't inherently evil
deserves a high five
and it always leaves my palm
stinging,
so I leave you there
with your hand raised
and know that
soon I will raise mine but you will not be there.
You say "I love you" every day
and it always sounds like a joke,
sounds like you're teasing me with the fact that
I have to love you back but even so,
on the days when I refuse to say it to you I know that
soon I will tell you I love you and you will not be there.
I have watched you changed
shoe sizes and
heights and
dreams and
hair cuts and
best friends and
priorities, and
You have been by me through
moving days and
funerals and
breakups and
marriages and
sobbing nights and
cheerful mornings, and
I know that
you are a part of me,
and I know that
soon I will look for that part but you will not be there.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
Africa, Oh Africa!
Africa, Oh Africa!
My Motherland,
Why not take pride
in who you are?
When you converse,
You use the language of the West.
The offspring of the same parents,
And still use the language of the West.
Your own children try to distance themselves
and dress and talk like
Those from the West.
Your airwaves are filled with music,
Fast beats, foul language
and heavy metal from the West.
Even the food you eat
All processed and purchased
From the West.
Your fields are dry.
You laugh at traditional foods and ceremonies.
You have forgotten who you are.
Your heritage cries out
From the depths of the tombs
you're filling up with immorality
and your self-destructive ways.
You despise who are,
You ridicule who you are,
You try so hard to change
Who you are
Your heroes and comrades
In entertainment and politics
In the community, the society
Have been overshadowed
By those from the West.
Remember them,
Revere them,
More so alive than after death.
Resurrect Ubuntu,
Show a little compassion
For a fellow who needs it.
Stop the hate, tribalism
And racism.
This path of destruction
Will get you nowhere.
Let peace rule in the Motherland.
Respect your elders,
Salute the teachers
Who try to lead your youth
In the right direction.
Teach your children well
Violence is not the way
The pen is still mightier
Than the sword
Eradicate illiteracy
End child labour and
Marriages.
Honour, love and protect
Your women and children.
They will give you respect
and happiness in return.
Follow the footprints
Of your forebears.
Live in harmony with
Yourself.
Africa, Oh Africa!
Africa, Oh Africa!
Take note
Before it's too late!
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
Eighteen misses and three survivors
Two broken marriages with one spiteful lost love
Two warring sisters and too many brothers
Numbers don’t always make the lives of another
Crocheted angels and heartfelt hugs
Gone are the days of each of those
Responsible, avoidant, and spoiled
Resentment, confusion, and miscommunication
Ghosts of the past
Harried, busy, and distant
Buy back the time
Patience, hope, and acceptance
Crowding the cast
Three lives play out creating six more
One life still here caught in time
One life locked in with ghosts of the past
cc062611
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 2:11 PM UTC
I'm bored, as bored as someone can be
I'm bored, running circles around my thoughts like a bumble bee
I'm bored, with every breath I take
I'm bored, and boredom is the only thing in people that couldn't be fake
Fake smiles you throw
Yet your fake smiles don't work because you still look like a crow
Fake laughs so high
You think high pitch can make the time fly?
Fake faces you reveal
You eat up on lies like a happy meal…
Fake body you wear every day,
Yet at the end of the time, no one's interested in your body made of clay
Fake gazes, fake stairs
Fake intentions climbing up the stairs
Fake jewelry, fake phone
This is a list of fake I could always go one
Fake hearts, fake emotions
Fake intimacy, fake devotions
Fake marriages, fake divorce
Fake sympathy and fake remorse
Fake empathy, fake duty and chores…
Your lies are fake, which makes them true
But again, your truth is fake too!
Fake thoughts fake you
Fake thoughts fake you
I will go back to being bored, for boredom is the only thing that's right
Fake rights make you go left; fake lefts take you out of sight
Fake lives you lead a head of you, but you can't get your fake boredom that's why I cherish my boredom so much
Fake groups of happy, you're not happy, you're just a fake ignorant bunch
I'll go back to my boredom for it gives me a sense of sanity
And takes me a bit away from your fake ego and vanity
Fake hugs fake care
Fake lungs of fake air
I'll go back to my boredom, for my boredom is unique
And my boredom made me realize how fake you are as we speak…
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
12/30/2013
I Met the **** Hater
Have you ever seen someone so beautiful
that you felt like crying?
Have you ever felt so utterly Disgusted by someone
that you wished they were dying?
Do you think I feel gay guts and gayness in my genes?
Or did society manufacture me - one of their gay liberal machines.
I'm not sure which is better,
Either way you'll make me a martyr.
But I'll be your Hester Prynne baby
with my Big Gay Letter.
I cannot erase
that look on his face.
when he told me **** **** Go Away.
I'll punch you in the face just for being Gay.
A separation of message and mind.
Hateful judgment is not hard to find.
When I stand in the shower,
or sit down on a park bench,
I'm a **** to him clear as gay.
It's like he thinks I ate some magic flower.
My girlfriends don't fare much better - to him called a bar *****
This guy is the part of society that makes being gay scary to say.
He thinks Gays making out in public can't be allowed.
He thinks Legalized gay marriages should be disavowed.
He thinks Animal *** ********** and ****** are because of gays.
He thinks Gay **** between two women might be more okay.
He thinks *** should **** more gay people.
He thinks Criminalizing ****** would make things more equal.
He thinks Adam's choice of Eve or Steve is all that matters.
He doesn't care about myself, or your heart's fragile rathers.
This man is the **** Hater.
Not a rare breed at all.
He could be your waiter,
or your teacher,
maybe even your sales assistant at the mall.
I Met the **** Hater,
while I made out with a guy at the bar.
The **** Hater was kinda old, yet strong and tall.
But I didn't fall
down.
or become dehumanized.
When I caught a glimpse of his face
and saw that utter look of Disgust
that I just cannot erase.
I saw it in his face - the **** Hater's
'Homo Hate.'
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
It's not the night before christmas and I'm unhappy.
Unhappy about parents who got married because
the *** the had made them believe they were in love.
Unhappy that my dad calls me a spoiled brat for
telling him the truth about ***** woman being a pain
in my *** *****
Unhappy because I over heard ***** woman laughing
telling her friend she got pregnant on purpose to trap
my stupid dad to get money.
You try telling an old man with graying hair and who
is getting fat his young ***** is a greedy ***** who
don't love him.
Unhappy because my dad never told me I was having a brother.
Unhappy because my mom got hurt but now she's
as bad as dad dating men she meets off the internet.
Unhappy because I'm 18 and had a kid after band camp.
Unhappy because I had to take a year off school.
Unhappy because christmas is coming and I don't care.
Unhappy because dad thinks he can buy me stuff thinking
buying me stuff takes the place of a dad.
I don't care about college anymore or what happens
after I graduate from high school.
There is no such thing as love.
There is no such thing as happy marriages.
There is no such thing as dads who give a **** about
kids they don't live with anymore.
There is this thing called me never getting married.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
If platonic marriages were a thing,
we'd have 5 dogs .
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
are you generally happy?
a semi-innocuous query
now actualized as a two sided bladed poker,
hot stabbing me smack dab in
the chests hollow crown bullseye,
continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a
“yes”
it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that
refreshes with every breath;
a life long struggle for an accurate definition,
be a general of genuine happy,
that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction
as a human, one operates on parallel continuums;
slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years,
their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles
formed by
twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves,
marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost,
complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words
“The End”
a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong
with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours,
reality is
shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by
spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for
a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable
and a piece of a peace that comes and goes
like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read
the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand
you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing -
the opioids of the mind offers are rejected
the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall -
the place where the poems come from,
and go to die,
a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized
but never been and never left,
the crazy contradictions come in two flavors;
vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have
etched pathways cheek-chiseled
the city is a struggling strife for most,
the next red line on the side
of the measuring cup and
everyone has a cell, a credit card,
and a measuring cup
<•>
here I stop can’t finish
someone missing alerts me
to their real worlds troubles
making my complaints super superficial but
the silent running of the stilleto
cuts shallow
repeated hourly
the cut color,
pitch black
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
Looking at this Rose,
“ya, it’s beautiful right?”
How can something so marvelous
grow in a world so frivolous?
Vibrantly blossoms just to wait out it’s days
Waiting To live out a purpose
other than to wither away
So many potential uses such as dates, marriages, deaths, and holidays
Except for this one Rose
Which got plucked
for no other relevancy
but to just wither away.
Sleep in Peace Jahseh
You left this world way too early but you have left much purpose for us other roses through your music and the way you were changing from your past mistakes. Thank you X
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Intimidating intimacy
I’ll wait for you to put a ring on my finger,
Not a ****** on your *****
Intimate intimidation
Assertiveness, not aggressiveness, is a quality fit for a
Prince. Your highness,
Dost thou want thy queen?
Seems even marriage has fallen under the blanket of
Fashion over Function.
Wedding rings mean more than wedding vows.
Gone are the days in which marriages fueled society, and
Function before Fashion.
Cheers to the weeping ages of an ill generation.
If only love lasted as long as 14 karat gold.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
We give expensive gifts to our children on
Birthdays,
Achievements,
Marriages,
Adulthood (21 years),
and on and on.
Have we ever given them?
The Quran-Islam
The Bible-Christians
The Bhagavad Gita-Hinduism
The Tohra-Judaism
Guru Granth Sahib-Sikhism
Kojik-Shinto,
Avesta-Zeroastranism.
In today's world of chaos our children need them.
If learning is important why not between the pages of the holy books.
Let's make our holy books as important as our mobiles.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
When you help your buddy get married to his girlfriend,
Against the wishes of both their families and world,
You are observing the actual spirit of Bakrid,
No kidding here - I am so serious!!
You are helping his career in life of AGREECULTURE,
Because marriages are agreements that you sign without reading,
And of course you are sacrificing your friendship,
Just like the underlying principle of Bakrid.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
A fantasy love,
Between two worlds
The real,
And the fairy tale
An unlikely prince
Sings to find a lovable Princes
Tragedy strikes
Loves caught between two worlds
I know that the prince
Will find his princess
Loosing one
He shall find another
A love of bonds
A love of life
A love for music and
Nature alike.
Two marriages
Two new royals
Royal blood
Royal love
A love like no other
Just a fairytale
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
strangers.
thats all we were.
destined strangers.
destined to meet.
destined to laugh.
destined to touch.
destined to love.
destined to hurt.
destined to love again.
this was our destiny.
but the funny thing is,
destiny tested us from day one.
the cafe you sit at everyday
is the same cafe i drive by,
everyday.
the 20 story building you walk into everyday
is where i park my car,
everyday.
the days you visit the bookstore,
are the days i'm out for a run.
the days i visit the same bookstore,
are the days you walk your dog.
at 1:45 pm, you come into my bakery everyday.
from 1-2 in the afternoon is my lunch break,
everyday.
on the saturday you went to pick up a tux,
i was in the dressing room,
picking a dress.
friday, 3rd one of june,
was the day
you finally walked my way
and i walked yours.
you dressed in a smooth straight black suit.
and i dressed in lace, ribbon and chiffon.
all in white.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"
i turned your way
and for the first time,
i met your eyes.
your eyes of caribbean blue.
"Yes, it is."
your smile
so warm and charming.
"i'd better get to my altar,
and i guess you better get to yours",
was the last thing
you ever said to me.
you walked away from my direction,
and i walked away from yours.
that day,
i said "I do",
and so did you.
but not to each other.
45 years past.
2 children.
3 grand children.
3 dogs.
1 divorce.
0 marriages afterwards.
all because of someone.
a man from 45 years ago.
he was my destiny
and i hope he knew too.
strangers are who we were.
strangers are who we are.
strangers are who we will always be.
destined strangers;
who will never see.
destined strangers;
you will just be you.
and i will just be me.
you and i will never
be the destined 'we'.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
*is it like a feather
is it now or never
our faces are neglected
our souls are introspective
gravity collected
space and time dissected
water is our mother
the earth is our shelter
a blessed sacred elder
lilikoi is my favorite fragrance
tastes like innocence
and you must respect her
amazing feelings to select
the headwaters call collect
protect our sacred mother
dance upon the other
call upon the winds
feel them on your skin
remove the falling stones
that cover up your bones
rest in love unknown
concentrate until it is shown
phone calls steal our happiness
accidents dent our marriages
darkness is our daughter
streaks of light and color
falling stars kept captive
we plant them in our yards
keepers of the spark
sisters of the sparrow
made of light and yarrow
feathers flicker softly
all our woven glory
givers of the heart
singers of the dark
if you wish to hear them
make yourself a part
of the symphony
lifetimes of abandonment
oh so quick to fill you in
on all the tragic stories
what if we ignored them
and stayed present in this moment
filling up our cups
simple days spent with simple eyes
kindness supplies our alibis
respect is valued
like a stream in our hearts
we are dipped clean
threads of beauty
borrowed from the scarecrow
next lifetime you’ll become
another source of hope
ports of pleasure in our seas
forever we are feeling these
hopeless ropes tying up our antidotes
confounded sounds mounds of hope
stereoscopes and isotopes
poets freely speak
seek islands of wisdom
on stormy seas of chatter*
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC
We live in a straight world.
You might not think it’s true,
“Gays are coming out everyday
could be them next or her,
maybe you too”
Well I’ll take a minute to prove it to you.
If I told you I’m into girls
I’d see your brain short circuit in real time,
“But you don’t look gay” you’d say.
“Straight passing” is what they call
a girl like me, who still looks feminine
but doesn’t want the D.
This “luxury” of remaining in the closet
is really hurting my game,
Added another straight boy
to my list of those who lost it
when they heard me exclaim,
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m gay”
Let’s not forget the most important issue
“Gays will ruin the sanctity of marriage”
Here, I’ll hand you the tissues.
Man and woman, hand in hand, till death do they part,
and yet more than half of all marriages
end in the perfected art of divorce.
Far be it from me,
to take anyone’s right
to do and say what they want,
while you embrace the hate
and live fighting the inevitable reality
of any queer couple tying the knot.
It might be 2018,
but I still can’t hold a potential partner’s hand
in a public facility
without getting disgusted leers
and a dreadful look at multiple cases
of unprovoked hostility.
So, try to look me in the eyes,
And tell me I’m not right.
But despite it all
I’ll keep my head up high
And let that rainbow flag fly
Because this might be a straight world,
But love is love
is love
is love.
And that concludes this winded verse.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
Those long uneven lines
Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside
The Oval or Villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun
On moustached archaic faces
Grinning as if it were all
An August Bank Holiday lark;
And the shut shops, the bleached
Established names on the sunblinds,
The farthings and sovereigns,
And dark-clothed children at play
Called after kings and queens,
The tin advertisements
For cocoa and twist, and the pubs
Wide open all day--
And the countryside not caring:
The place names all hazed over
With flowering grasses, and fields
Shadowing Domesday lines
Under wheat's restless silence;
The differently-dressed servants
With tiny rooms in huge houses,
The dust behind limousines;
Never such innocence,
Never before or since,
As changed itself to past
Without a word--the men
Leaving the gardens tidy,
The thousands of marriages,
Lasting a little while longer:
Never such innocence again.
3k
Love thy neighbour, so the Bible says
But dont covet his wife it will get you in strife!
Don't look at her body when she calls
Ignore her curves and her beconing calls
Your wife suggested you helped her out
Does she really now what its about?
That day you called when he was out
It wasn't those tools it was all about
All so innocent till she touched your chest
It went downhill and then to bed
A frantic tryst one afternoon
Cries off passion and moans were heard
Then hubby came home and saw you there
The game was up amongst other things
Two marriages ruined and a family split
All for the sake of a bit of "it"
For the wife had watched and often seen
The postman or the huge marine
She had plans all her own
And saw the means to make them so
Sow the seed and watch it grow
A perfect plan to get divorced
All she needed to pull it off
Was for them to be caught
A perfect plot
She hadn't planned on the neighbours anger
When he saw another bang her
So both barells he loosed into them
And sent upstate for ****** two
Far more than her plan had ever required
And now no alimony as hubby died!!
So love thy neighbour is all well and good
Just don't get caught if your stupid enough!
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
May Day
Fertility way
Beltane honours life
A peak of Spring
Earth energies are most effective
Let it begin
All busting with potent fertility
The wheel of the year,
potential becomes conception
Nature is fair
Fire festival glare
Ireland celebrations
Feast of Beltane
Latter times,
Mary's day,
it was called in the rhymes,
they say
Bonfires marking,
the coming of Summer
Granting luck to people's livestock,
without mock
The first day in May Irish holiday
Beltane rituals,
counting young men and women,
picking blossoms in the woods,
lighting fires as the evening stood
Matches for marriages all good,
right there and then,
or Summer Autumn would be when
Medieval modern Europe holiday
Return of Spring observance
Probably originating anyway,
in ancient agricultural roots
Rituals and perseverance,
The Greeks and Romans,
held such festivals
People and their cattle,
would walk around bonfires,
and between rattle
Sometimes leaping over,
embers and flames
All households,
fires doused and re-lit
from the Beltane bonfire
Accompanied by a feast,
with some food and drink,
offered at least
May Day also called Worker's Day,
or International Worker's Day
Commemorating the historic,
struggles and gains made,
by workers,
and the labour movement,
reins without jerkers
In the United States and Canada lakes,
a similar observance known,
as Labor Day partakes on the first,
Monday of September not May
Beltane also sometimes,
goes by the Name May Day
This holiday strongly,
associated with Pagans,
they say,
for fertility come what May
The origins are in ancient play,
across the world this May Day
© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 5:45 AM UTC
your George Klooney appeals to your filter.
you brunch with Tungsten and straight up toxic marriages.
the mob rules the Jupiter, so therefore and ever after
you mop Hell's kitchen while you slideshow
your thumb through the wreckage
of your tender aggressions in the marsh
where the hard sky lobs acid and false globs
of character... we blur the chi chi's and wiz bang
the last dirge
we incur the wrath of our blissful innocence
and sweeten the Lama
with our Lambda, " all back of the bus, and **** "
we betwixt the twain.
and that's the grease
in the varmint. the tuft of luscious.
you gob-smack the kiwi and chip away at the porcine thunder
of our pagan banquet.
the lungs you drum with; are even now
less equipped to sermon the mount
where your meek inherits
lengua tacos.
and your life means nothing, really....
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC